


In Another Life

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Escorts, Cancer, Escort Service, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was only looking to unwind the night he called Sands’ Escort Agency. He didn’t expect to be so thoroughly smitten by the call girl that showed up at his hotel room’s door, and he certainly didn’t expect to see her again the following day waiting tables at his brother’s wedding. Unable to stop thinking about her, he offers to pay her for a more permanent agreement, and Meg has her own reasons to accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel had never done anything like that before.

He knew he was a rather attractive guy. Most women (and some men) liked his bright blue eyes and the expensive suits that emphasized his runner muscles. Not many people resisted the temptation of running their fingers through his black hair, of telling him just how handsome he was. On top of that, Castiel had years of conditioning to be polite with people, and although he rarely smiled, nobody would have pegged him as unfriendly.

So, a man with that much appeal shouldn’t have had any problem finding a date, or even picking up someone to have a one night stand with, right?

Wrong. Castiel’s last relationship had ended catastrophically, and ever since, he had been unable to find a partner to suit his needs, romantically or sexually. The first was alright. Castiel swore to himself that he was done with love and all the mess it implied; but the itch to have sex with someone other than his hand had been bothering him for months. And that particular night, he didn’t want to be alone.

He had tried the hotel’s bar earlier. There had been some flirting, some smiling, and some winking. But that night the hotel was full of people who knew exactly who he was and why he was there, and that was the sort of conversation he was looking to avoid.

“No luck, mate?” the bartender asked Castiel when he returned to the counter for the fourth time, the same untouched glass of whiskey still in his hand.

“It seems it’s not, as they say, my night,” he replied with a sad smile. The bartender, a man with a thick British accent and a V-neck shirt, shot him a look of sympathy and then leaned slightly so only Castiel could hear what he said next:

“You know, there is a friend of mine who provides… let’s say, company, to men like you.”

“Company?” Castiel repeated, frowning. Then it dawned on him. “Oh.”

“It’s a very discreet service,” continued the bartender, sliding a business card in Castiel’s direction. “Not cheap, of course, but I have the impression you can afford it.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said, looking at the card like it was some kind of creeping bug. “I, uh… I think I’ll just go to my room now.”

“Take it,” the bartender insisted, and he put the card in Castiel’s hand. “You might just change your mind.”

Castiel mumbled a half-hearted “thanks” and got the hell out of dodge. He had never done anything like that. It wasn’t the first time he had been offered professional “services” but he’d never had trouble finding someone who shared his interests, whether it was merely sexual or… some of the other things he was interested in.

But once he was in his room, the loneliness fell on him like a heavy brick, and just the thought of what he had to endure the next morning made the business card in his pocket burn. He took it with shaky fingers, and started dialing the number from the hotel’s phone, but hung up before he finished. That wasn’t smart. He wasn’t being smart. What was wrong with him?

Instead, he called room service for some whiskey and two glasses, and then dialed the number from his cellphone.

“Sands’ Escort Service,” a female voice said on the other end. “How can I help you?”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour and one mortifying trip to the ATM later, there was a knock on Castiel’s door. By then he had taken off his tie, downed two shots of whiskey, and decided the whole deal was just too sordid. He had mentally prepared a whole speech that he hoped was courteous enough to let the escort know he’d changed his mind. Then again, it was just… company, right? There didn’t have to be anything sexual about it, they could just… drink together and talk, or something.

He realized he was being naïve on purpose as a second knock echoed through the room. Castiel took a deep breath, gathered some courage, and opened.

The woman standing outside his room was nothing like he expected. Then again, he didn’t know what he had expected. The woman on the phone had asked if he’d had any preferences physically, and Castiel had been too nervous to get specific. He vaguely remembered saying “brunette”, but that had been about it.

The escort was a brunette, alright. In fact, she had long, wavy brown hair that fell over her naked shoulders. She was wearing a black tube dress, black stockings, and stilettos that made her legs look slender and shapely. Not that Castiel stared at her legs. Okay, maybe he did, but as soon as he realized what he was doing, he looked up at her face, and that wasn’t any better because she was gorgeous: she had a round face, with big chocolate eyes and thin eyebrows, and a knowing smirk that seemed to indicate she didn’t mind at all that he had been looking at her legs.

“Hello, I’m Alice,” she greeted him, her voice was low and smoky. It made Castiel think all sort of inappropriate things. “You must be Jimmy.”

Castiel opened his mouth to tell her he was sorry and that he wouldn’t need her services after all, but then his mind went blank, and the next thing he knew, there was a voice that sounded suspiciously like his saying “Come on in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Alice, and in three long, confident steps, she was inside Castiel’s room, and that was that. Castiel figured he deserved it. He hadn’t done anything for himself in such a long time, and since she was there already, he might as well.

“Take a seat,” he invited her, pointing at the couches next to the coffee table where he had placed the whiskey. He sat next to her and was thankful that they couldn’t see the bed from there, because that would have brought about a completely different set of problems.

“Nice suite,” Alice commented, taking a look around as she left her clutch purse on the couch next to her. “Are you on vacation?”

“Not exactly,” Castiel said as he poured another shot. “Would you like a drink?”

“I don’t drink when I’m working,” said Alice, and ostensibly crossed her legs. Her dress was so short, that simple movement was enough for Castiel to catch a glimpse of her garters. He put the whiskey back down. He suddenly decided he wanted to be sober for this.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, not sure how to begin. “I just… I’ve never…”

“First time?” Alice asked, and Castiel nodded. His heart skipped a beat when her hand came to rest on his forearm, and she started rubbing her thumb soothingly. “That’s alright. We can take it as slow as you like.”

“I don’t want to just have sex,” Castiel blurted out, and Alice raised an eyebrow, but she wasn’t nearly as surprised as Castiel himself. “I wanted someone to… talk to, maybe,” he continued, feeling the blood running up his neck and to his face. “I-I would like you to… stay, and sleep in my bed, if that’s… if that’s alright with you.”

“Okay,” Alice agreed, and to Castiel’s relief, she didn’t look weirded out. “We’re talking a GFE, then.”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel repeated, confused.

“Girlfriend experience,” Alice explained patiently. “It’s gonna be a little more expensive than the price you agreed on with Josie, but I think it adjusts better to what you’re looking for. It entails kissing, touching, cuddling… whatever you want. Except for the standard off-limits, of course.”

“What would those be?” asked Castiel. He was starting to relax under Alice’s touch, her calm demeanor. Yes, this had been a good idea, after all.

“Well, no protection, of course,” she said. “Also, fisting, water sports, scat, marking and bestiality.”

“Bestiality?” Castiel repeated. “Really?”

Alice shrugged, and Castiel didn’t know if it was appropriate to laugh or not.

“Do you think I have a donkey hiding in the bedroom or something?” he tried to joke.

“It never happened to me,” Alice admitted. “But you should hear some of the stories the other girls tell.”

Castiel chuckled before he realized what he was doing. He was definitely feeling a lot better now, and Alice’s smile was comprehensive and amused. The nervous knot in his stomach was long gone, and there was no trace of a tremor when he grabbed her hand.

“So what do you say, handsome?” asked Alice, leaning so their faces would be closer. “We good to go?”

Castiel closed the small gap between them and softly pressed his lips against hers. They were warm, and tasted like a sweet fruit Castiel couldn’t quite pinpoint. Alice moved, and Castiel could feel her curves against him as she subtly opened her mouth, inviting him in. He put a hand on her neck as her fingers started to caress his lap and deepened the kiss. It was like receiving an electric shock. His heart started racing in his chest, and the strangest thought crossed his mind. She was perfect. All of her.

When they broke apart, Castiel was out of breath, and Alice’s face was an adorable shade of red.

“We’re good.”

 

* * *

 

They agreed on the price outside the bedroom, and after Alice slid the envelope inside her purse, Castiel was more comfortable, because it reminded him exactly where they were standing. This was a business exchange, after all, no different from the ones he performed on daily basis. It was something he could manage, something he could control. Castiel liked control.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” Alice asked with a playful expression.

“No,” said Castiel. He was easily regaining his self-assurance now that he was in familiar territory. He may have never hired an escort before, but he sure as hell wasn’t a virgin. “I’ll do it.”

Alice turned around to offer him a full view of her back and the zipper. Castiel took his time pulling it down. Delicately. No need to rush it. He wanted to enjoy every precious inch of skin, every single breath escaping her lips. He let the dress fall to the floor, and Alice stepped out of it and kicked it aside. Castiel took two seconds to admire the fluidity of her movements before he found something entirely different to admire. Alice was wearing a black lace bra with matching garters and panties. She was small-breasted, slim, and her pale skin made a beautiful contrast with the room’s dim light.

“See anything you like?” she asked with the same cheeky tone.

“You’re breathtaking,” said Castiel honestly. Before she could react, he was hovering over her, and kissing her right shoulder as he slid down her bra’s strap. Alice let out a little hum, and that reminded Castiel of a matter they had not discussed. “Can you come?” he asked her, genuinely curious.

“Do you want me to come?” she asked in all seriousness. Castiel reflected on it.

“I don’t want you to fake it,” he concluded.

“Then I won’t.”

She bit his lips, and then there was nothing delicate about it. She struggled with his coat and the buttons of his shirt as he slowly but steadily guided her to the bed. They stumbled on the covers, Castiel landing on all fours on top of her, caging her with his body. He kissed her roughly on the neck, grabbed her wrists, and put them above her head. Alice moaned in contentment, and curved her back as Castiel left a trail of kisses on the curve of her breasts and he manipulated the clamp to finally have access to her nipples. He took one in his mouth and started sucking slowly, reveling in the whimpers that kept falling from her lips.

“Jimmy…” she panted at some point, and Castiel stopped completely.

“Is this… is this wrong?” he asked, worried he might have crossed some off-limits thing.

“No,” she assured him. “I just, I… I left the condoms in my purse.”

Castiel was disoriented for a moment, and then stood up (which was hard to do since his pants had gotten a lot tighter). “I’ll… I’ll go get them.”

The walk between the bedroom and the couch seemed incredibly long, and Alice’s purse contained a hell of a lot of things: keys, cellphone, mints… Castiel’s hand finally came upon the strip of condoms and he took one. Then he thought about it and took two more. There was probably going to be some sort of extra charge for that, but he didn’t care. All he wanted right now was to hear her make the small noises she was letting out a minute ago, preferably at increasingly loud volumes and for an extended period of time.

When he came back, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had completely taken off her bra and her panties, and her garters hung loose around her legs. She was carefully removing her stilettos, and when she saw Castiel, she gave him a guilty look, like a little girl caught doing something wrong. Castiel understood immediately. She hadn’t really forgotten the condoms. She had just sent him to grab them in order to be naked when he came back. His dick twitched at the sight.

“Leave those on,” Castiel said when her fingers grazed the top of her stockings. He left the condoms on the bedside table, undid his pants and crawled back into bed as swiftly as he could, in nothing but his boxers. Alice showed him a wide, mischievous smile.

“You have a little kink after all, huh?”

It was Castiel’s turn to smirk. “You have no idea.”

Alice laid back again, with an inviting gesture. Castiel hugged her close and took his time, to caress, to explore, to pinch. His fingers slipped over her stomach and, as Alice let out another sigh of pleasure, found their way between her legs. He toyed with her clit, softly pressing and circling around it with his thumb as his index fingers slid inside her. The hand she had placed on his bicep tightened its grip, and Castiel barely noticed she’d shoved the other inside his boxers until he felt a little squeeze on his bum. He let out a small cry against her neck. Amazing. She was intuitively pushing all of his buttons.

“You ready?” he whispered into her ear.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes… Jimmy…”

Castiel pulled down his boxers and let Alice slowly and carefully roll the condom along his erection. He normally didn’t find anything erotic about that action, but when she did it, it was almost a tender stroke, a display of desire, that she wanted this as much as he did. She couldn’t be possibly faking that. Castiel kissed her again, tangling his fingers in her hair. He penetrated her in one smooth movement, and Alice’s breathing hitched, her legs naturally wrapping around Castiel’s hips. The satiny touch of her stockings sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine, and then he was just lost.

She was just as vocal as he had imagined, encouraging him with _please_ , and curses, and _right there_ , and it was _glorious_. He started picking up a steady rhythm as her skin became feverishly hot and sweaty underneath his fingertips. Castiel could taste the saltiness of it. It reminded of summer days, and the sea, and the sun shining bright upon them. Alice was writhing and rubbing against him, asking him for _more, more, more_ , and Castiel knew she was close as a tingling sensation started growing in his own stomach. Alice arched her body and let out one final gasp, shuddering from head to toe, and the sight of her coming apart like that was too much for him. He held her close as his own orgasm washed over him, and his heart pounded inside his chest.

He remained there for a minute, on top of her, fighting against the drowsiness in his brain. Finally, he managed to roll over to lie on his back and looked at her. She had her eyes wide open and was breathing heavily. After a moment, she threw her head backwards and started cracking up.

“What?” Castiel asked, slightly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking,” she said, and she rolled over as well to get closer to him and put a hand on his chest. “Thank God I didn’t have to fake it.”

Castiel let out a hearty laugh. “And that was just round one…”

 

* * *

 

Somebody kissed him on the cheek.

Or at least that’s what it felt like. Castiel couldn’t tell for sure. It could have been the breeze coming in through the window. He was still half asleep, and he didn’t really wake up until the soft click of a door closing in the distance leaked inside his brain. And even then it took every ounce of his will to open his eyes.

The other side of the bed was empty. Well, of course it was. Castiel grabbed his cellphone and yawned. It was only seven thirty in the morning, but considering all the things he had to do, he couldn’t afford to snooze for another half hour.

He made his way into the bathroom, even though every inch of his body ached, like he had run an especially long marathon. Or spent the night with a beautiful woman. Castiel smiled at himself in the mirror as he analyzed his back. Alice had left a trail of scratches on his skin that went all the way down to his ass. They’d probably be there for a day or two, and then disappear to become a really good memory.

Castiel had never done anything like it before, and as he hopped into the shower, he considered maybe it’d be best if he didn’t ever again. Maybe the only reason he’d enjoyed it was because he had hit it off so well with Alice, and it would be different with someone else. Or maybe it was because he didn’t want anything to tarnish that memory. Maybe deep down, Castiel was a romantic, and wanted to believe not everything had been business last night.

In any case, Alice was gone and it was unlikely he would ever see her again. And he had succeeded at his original plan: to not spend the night alone and worrying about that morning.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and opened the closet’s door. The black tuxedo hung there, impeccable and threatening in its garment bag. Castiel took it out with a sigh. Well… show time.


	2. Chapter 2

Her cellphone was vibrating like crazy. Meg imagined Tessa was having a panic attack because she was what? Five minutes late? She checked the hour. More like half an hour late. Okay, then. She’d come up with an excuse about traffic or not being able to find the right address, no big deal.

She finished buttoning up her shirt and took a look in the mirror. Her lips were a bit swollen, but besides that, there were no other visible signs of the night “Alice” had just spent. She tied her hair up in a ponytail and applied just a little bit of lip gloss and mascara. The tips were always better when she looked trimmed, in both of her jobs.

Finally, Meg slid her clutch purse and her black dress into her big duffle bag, mentally thanking God and all of his angels for Balthazar, the bartender, and his agreement with Abbadon: he approached the clients, got a small cut, and let the girls use the hotel’s gym shower and lockers so they wouldn’t have to walk home in high heels and torn stockings. Meg wasn’t sure how he explained that to his managers, but she had learnt long ago not to question good luck.

Like last night, for example. Cecily had called Ruby at first, but her roommate was too busy cramming for an exam she should have started studying for weeks before, and begged Meg to cover for her. It wouldn’t be the first time they did that whenever a client requested a “brunette”, and Meg was about to say no because she had a gig at her other, actual job the following morning. But then it turned out both gigs were in the same place, and well, what better way to being in time than arriving a few hours early? She’d ask Balthazar to let her crash on a couch somewhere afterwards.

And then the client was a really handsome guy and a first timer on top of it, so Meg thought the session would be easy, but Jimmy had proven her wrong as soon as he overcame his initial shyness. Meg was sure she would’ve got more sleep had she ended up seeking asylum with Balthazar, but she wasn’t complaining. It was a rare gift to find a client as considerate as Jimmy, and if she was being honest, it wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed herself.

Maybe that’s why she’d overslept. And maybe that’s why she had kissed Jimmy on the cheek before leaving the room. Meg grimaced as she strode towards the kitchen. That had been terribly unprofessional, but he had been fast asleep and nobody besides her had to know, right? Right. She shook her head and let the last vestiges of “Alice” disappear as she crossed the swinging doors.

“Alright, alright,” she said, waving her still vibrating cell phone like it was a white flag. “I’m here.”

Tessa clicked her tongue and put her own cell phone away.

“Where were you?” she asked Meg, in that high pitch tone she only used in Really Bad Emergencies.

“There was traffic,” Meg lied. “And I couldn’t find the address.”

“Then you should have left earlier!” Tessa shouted. “We have a million things to do here! You don’t understand; everything has to be perfect. The groom’s mother is very pernickety…”

Meg didn’t bother to point the irony of calling someone else “pernickety” when Tessa was one nervous breakdown away from turning into Monica Geller. Instead, she put her hands on Tessa’s (who was hyperventilating at this point) shoulders and talked in her most calm tone of voice.

“Breathe,” she said. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to give these disgustingly rich people the reception of their dreams, and they’re going to recommend your services to all their disgustingly rich friends, and everything will work out _just fine_ , you hear me? Breathe.”

Tessa inhaled deeply at the same time that Meg, and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her voice had recovered her usual tone:

“Thank you.”

“Hey, what’s family for?” Meg smiled reassuringly. “Now, let’s start with those million things.”

When Tessa started listing all that needed to get done, Meg realized she hadn’t been exaggerating: she needed to get all the tables ready, help Tessa cook the lunch they’d be serving as soon as the ceremony finished (“Which is going to be around eleven, which means they’ll be here by eleven thirty, and everything must be…” – “Yes, I know, Tessa!”) and she had to do it basically all by herself because Tessa couldn’t afford to have the other waiters show up since she paid them by the hour.

“You need to pick up the wine and the champagne. I can’t leave the meat in the oven,” Tessa told her, handing her the keys of her car after Meg finished distributing the centerpieces. “The cellar told me they’d have them all packed and ready, and--”

“I’ll get it,” Meg calmed her, and made sure Tessa saw her run towards the parking lot before breaking into a steadier pace. She was back in less than fifteen minutes. Tessa needed to untwist her…

Meg froze before she could open the trunk. There were two men in tuxedos and a woman in an elegant red dress coming her way. The shorter man was fidgeting with his bowtie and complaining loudly about something Meg didn’t quite catch, while the woman was very obviously rolling her eyes. It was the other man that made her blood drain from her face, and hold onto Tessa’s keys so tight she scratched her palm. Then she did the only thing she could do under those circumstances: she ducked behind the car and begged to all the gods she knew about they wouldn’t see her.

“… and I really don’t understand why the party couldn’t be at night, like God intended,” the short, blond man was saying.

“Stop it, Gabriel,” the woman said. “You’re going to ruin it.”

They stopped next to a black Mercedes Benz just a few steps from where Meg was hiding, so she could hear their conversation loud and clear.

“Hey, little brother,” the short man said. “Why the long face? Cheer up. It’s a great day.”

The other man turned, and with the same gravelly voice that had been muttering all kind of obscenities in Meg’s ear not twelve hours ago, he said:

“I guess I’m just nervous.”

“Well, don’t be,” said the short blond man. “It will be over before you notice.”

“We’re going to be late,” the woman in the red dress warned them.

They climbed into the Mercedes and a few seconds later, peeled out of the parking lot. Meg stood up on shaky knees and had to lean over the trunk to fight the sudden nausea that washed over her.

Jimmy. It was Jimmy’s wedding.

 

* * *

 

“How’d it go?” Tessa asked when Meg walked back into the kitchen with the first box of champagne.

Meg barely heard her. Dammit. Why? Why did it have to be Jimmy? Why did it have to be her? This was all Ruby’s fault. If she had started studying when she should have, Meg wouldn’t be the ticking bomb that could blow up Tessa’s biggest gig in months. Fucking Jimmy, why couldn’t he go to a strip club or get drunk in Atlantic City like every normal man in his bachelor party? No, he had to hire an escort and…

“Meg?” Tessa called her. “Is something wrong?”

Meg looked up, and the words _‘I think I slept with the groom’_ followed by a full confession of what she’d been doing to make ends meet for the past year were just about to roll out of her tongue when Tessa smirked sadly and added:

“I’m sorry, I’m exploding you. You must be tired of all the running around…”

And Meg realized she couldn’t dump that on Tessa, so she bit her tongue and forced a smile.

“Not at all,” she said. “You know we Hufflepuffs are unafraid of toil…”

Tessa hit her in the shoulder and laughed as she always did when Meg made a pop culture reference, and for a moment, Meg let herself believe this didn’t necessarily have to end in disaster.

On the other hand, she should have known last night’s job was too good to be true.

 

* * *

 

By twelve, when the wedding guests and the rest of Tessa’s staff arrived, Meg had pulled her shit together, put on her waistcoat and skirt and practiced her most obliging smile. She also removed her make-up, because she didn’t need the tips that badly, anyway. Plus, the less they noticed her, the less of a chance there was that Jimmy would see her and recognize her. She could still come out on top of this. She just had to be very, very discreet.

The groom’s pernickety mother presented herself in the kitchen around five past twelve. She looked like a very severe woman, with her hair tied tightly in a bun and a thin veil descending over her eyes, while her body was compressed in a long, black dress. Meg wondered if she was at her son’s funeral instead of his wedding.

“Is everything ready, Mrs. Masters?” she asked with a twitchy smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Novak,” Tessa answered. She had her black hair hidden under her white hat, and if Meg hadn’t known her, she wouldn’t have noticed just how anxious she was.

“Good,” Mrs. Novak said, and somehow she made it sound like an ultimatum. “We’re ready for you.”

Tessa’s shoulder sank and her smile disappeared as soon as Naomi Novak was out of her personal space. Meg patted her in the back, but didn’t dare repeat that everything was going to be okay, mainly because she wouldn’t be able to make it sound convincing. Instead, she grabbed a tray and followed the other waiters into the ballroom.

_Don’t look at the main table, don’t look at the main table…_

Dammit, she looked. But it was empty for the moment, so she relaxed and walked around, offering appetizers. She caught a glimpse of the short blond man, still toying with his bowtie, and the woman in the red dress still ostensibly rolling her dark eyes at him. Meg deduced they were married.

“How long until I can start drinking, Kali?” asked the short man.

“Well, if everything goes as planned,” answered his wife, looking at a small clock on her wrist, “not long.”

She hadn’t even finished pronouncing those words when Mrs. Novak climbed up the stage where the band was preparing their instruments.

“Hello,” she said, with the same twitchy smile. “And thank you all so much for coming to this happy day for our family. I’m not going to entertain you long, as I’m sure you are all hungry.”

The guests were compelled to laugh, because Meg had the impression that when Naomi Novak told a joke, it was better for everyone if you laughed even if you didn’t find it funny.

“Without further ado,” continued Mrs. Novak, “I give you… my son, and his beautiful bride.”

Everybody started clapping enthusiastically, as the ballroom doors opened theatrically. Meg clung onto the tray because her hands were shaking wildly, and allowed herself one timid look at the newlyweds. She was wearing a dress with a voluminous skirt, and an exquisite veil that flowed down gracefully along with her thick blonde curls. She was smiling and coyly looking down, like she couldn’t quite believe all those people were there for her. After a moment, Meg dared look at the man holding her hand.

He was tall and black haired, alright, but it wasn’t _her_ tall dark stranger. No, that one walked in a few steps behind, arm in arm with a redhead woman wearing a lavender dress, obviously the maid of honor. A wave of sweet relief washed over Meg, who had to resist the temptation to get on her knees and start singing gospels.

The best man. She had slept with the best man. Still potentially catastrophic, but not as bad as the groom scenario.

“And there we go,” muttered the short man, still clapping and smiling awkwardly. “The happy couple makes their arrival.”

“Who chose that dress?” asked his wife, squinting her eyes at the bride’s insecure steps.

“Mother, of course,” said the blonde man. “She probably hoped poor Rachel would trip and make a fool of herself.”

“Well, it’s a day of miracles,” Meg commented when the couple reached the main table without any kind of incidents. Only when the two guests turned to look at her she realized she’d said it out loud.

“You,” said the woman in the red dress, pointing at her with a long fingernail. “I like you.”

“Make sure our glasses are never empty,” her husband added, slipping a bill in Meg’s hand. “And there will be a lot more where that came from.”

Meg took a quick look the money. It was a fifty.

“You got it, sir,” she said, making it disappear inside her waistcoat pocket. Well, she’d done a lot worse for a lot less.

 

* * *

 

The wedding unfolded on perfect schedule, but nobody expected anything different. Exactly fifteen minutes after the newlyweds made their entry, the chef walked in with her perfectly cooked lunch, and everybody was drinking perfectly aged wine. The band kept playing all the perfect songs, and the guests chattered about how perfect everything was.

Castiel was dying inside, but he made sure to put on a show and smile like everyone else. Not because his mother would disown him if he didn’t (which she would), but because he had no right to be miserable on Michael and Rachel’s special day. Of course, in another life, had things worked out differently… no, no need to open that can of worms. He helped himself to more champagne and feigned interest in some of Anna’s anecdotes about other weddings.

A few tables away, Gabriel and Kali were systematically getting drunk as well, and Castiel really wished he could sit with them because they were the only ones who weren’t cynical enough to pretend that this was a marriage and not a business merger. But he couldn’t get up without looking rude, not until his speech and then the dance… Oh, fuck, he’d have to dance with Rachel. He emptied his glass again.

Finally, after a couple of hours of insistently looking in his mother’s direction, Naomi made the signal and Castiel stood up and cleared his throat. Nobody noticed. Anna, sitting by his side, picked a fork and started hitting it against her glass. The room went quiet and Castiel showed his cousin a smile of the most pure gratitude.

Okay. Quick and painless, like he’d rehearsed.

“Hello. I’d like to repeat my mother’s sentiment and thank you all for being here today,” he said. Was he blushing? His face was hot, like he was blushing. Everyone was looking at him. Of course they were; he was the one giving the speech. _Dammit, dammit, dammit_. “Michael, when you told me you wanted me to be your best man, I asked why would you pick me…”

A loud thump followed by a hysterical laughter interrupted him. Gabriel had fallen off his chair and was currently on the floor, laughing himself to tears in the room’s sudden stunned silence. Castiel caught Naomi’s enraged expression out of the corner of his eye, and couldn’t help himself:

“Well, question answered, I guess.”

Their cousin Hester was the first to crack, and to Castiel’s relief all of the guests followed suit. Even Naomi let out a sound that could have been a guffaw if you felt generous. Michael was bursting and Rachel, as always, giggled quietly with three fingers over her lips. Kali and one of the waitresses hauled Gabriel to his feet and hastily got him out of the ballroom before the laughter died out and everybody started paying attention to Castiel again, who was now basking in the certainty that he couldn’t screw up as bad as Gabriel had.

So it was a lot easier for him to say the things he had prepared: how both their families had been friends for a long time, and so Michael and Rachel had known each other since they were kids, how they had grown up together and fallen in love, and how they belonged to each other and deserved all the happiness in the world.

He had never lied so much in his life.

But everybody seemed moved, and Michael even stood up to hug him as a close applause swept across the ballroom.

“Thank you, brother,” he muttered in his ear, as he held him tight.

Castiel shook his head and said something about going to check on Gabriel. He actually just needed to get out of there, because the band was getting ready to start playing, and maybe if he found an excuse to keep away long enough, he could skip the whole dancing with the bride bullshit.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have to go far to find Gabriel and Kali, who were calmly sitting on a couch in the hotel lobby, smoking under the disapproving glare of the receptionist. Castiel deduced they’d previously bribed with a generous tip so he wouldn’t kick them out.

“Hey, little bro,” Gabriel greeted him. “How did it go?”

“Mother wants your head on a silver platter,” Castiel informed him. “Aren’t you supposed to be drunk?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gabriel remembered, and opened his mouth to let his tongue hang loose. Kali chuckled, and squashed the butt of her cigarette on the ashtray.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” she said calmly. It took Castiel a couple of seconds to understand what was going on.

“You were faking,” he stated, and none of them deny it. “Why?”

“Because we knew you were nervous,” said Kali.

“And because we needed an excuse to leave early,” added Gabriel. “Now Mother will be disappointed, but unsurprised, and I’ll have to deal with stern looks for a couple of months. Which I’m already used to, so no biggie.”

“But at least you didn’t ruin Rachel’s wedding by breaking up sobbing in the middle of your speech and begging her to come back to you,” Kali pointed, with a little shrug.

Castiel was unsure whether to hug them or hit them, so he just stared at them in shock as Gabriel finished his cigarette as well and stood up.

“How about we stay for a song or two?” he asked, extending his hand towards Kali. “I’ve been practicing my stumbling on chairs and it’d be a shame if I don’t get to use it.”

“Darling, it’s always a treat watching you horrify your family,” Kali answered, batting her eyes lovingly. Gabriel wrapped an arm around her waist, and together they started making their way back to the ballroom.

“Oh, and Cas, a piece of advice?” Gabriel offered him. “Get a hobby. Travel somewhere. Just… get her off your mind.”

Like it was that easy. Castiel didn’t say it, but it must have reflected on his face, because Gabriel raised his free hand in defeat, and then staggered off with Kali pretending to hold him straight. Castiel sighed. He thought about escaping, because honestly, that party was the last place on Earth he wanted to be at right now. He wanted to go back home and change into his pajamas and maybe cry a little. He wanted to order his chauffer to drive him to Atlantic City and gamble the family fortune away. He wanted to turn back time and go back to last night in his room, with the company of beautiful Alice to make him forget.

But it would be too suspicious if he disappeared, so he was making his way back into the ballroom when he, quite literally, bumped into his wish.

There was a yelp, and then a cold liquid spilled all across his chest.

“Shit,” said the waitress, who was carrying the now half empty bottle of champagne. Castiel was about to assure her there was nothing to worry about… and then he took a good look at her face.

“Alice?”

She reacted so fast Castiel didn’t know what was going on until the swinging doors of the kitchen were closing behind them.

“Alice…” he called her again.

“It’s not Alice,” she groaned, visibly exasperated. “It’s Meg, okay? Alice’s just my… artistic name, if you like.”

Castiel blinked. Under the white lights, she looked very different from the woman he’d spent the night with. For starters, she wasn’t wearing any make up. Not that it made her any less beautiful, but with her hair tied in a messy ponytail and the very unflattering waitress uniform, Castiel would’ve trouble recognizing her if he hadn’t seen her up close.

“I…” Castiel started, blinking several times, as if to make sure what he was seeing was true. “What…?” he tried, but his astonishment was too great, and it grew even more when she planted herself in front of him with a wet towel in her hand. “What are you doing here?” Castiel finally blurted out as Alice… no, Meg, started energetically rubbing the towel over the champagne spill.

“Working,” she said, through greeted teeth. “This is my sister-in-law’s catering service. And I would really appreciate it if she didn’t find out about my night job.”

Castiel was filled to the brim with frustration and anger, and her slightly menacing tone did nothing to improve his mood, so his answer came out a little harsher than he intended:

“Why, of course. Because I am dying to see my ultra-religious family find out I spent the night with an escort.”

“Fuck you, buddy,” Meg replied, but Castiel had the impression she was now squeezing the towel a little harder than it was necessary. “Nobody put a gun to your head and forced you to call the agency.”

That was true. Castiel massage his temples as Meg continued to manipulate the towel, but before she could start rubbing again, he took her wrist tentatively. She startled, and he immediately let go.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just… I’m having a rough day. More like, a rough couple of months.”

“Well, join the club,” she muttered.

She looked up from the sink where she was wetting the towel again. She definitely looked different from when she had been Alice. Angrier. Wearier. Truer. Castiel started to wonder how it was possible she was the same woman when the doors opened again, and the chef walked in.

“Meg, what are you doing?” she asked, exasperated. “I need help with the…” She stopped when she Castiel, and there was panic in her eyes, and panic in Meg’s face. And Castiel figured, in that split second, that he owed her.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, giving the other woman the same professional smile he used when closing a deal. “I had a little accident, and this young lady was so kind to help me out. I didn’t mean to hold her for long.”

“And we’re done!” said Meg, happily, and closed Castiel’s jacket to conceal the champagne stain. “Shouldn’t be a problem if we keep quiet about it.”

“Well, I’m not going to say anything,” Castiel promised, trying to transmit that he had understood exactly what she meant. He strode towards the exit with one last polite gesture in the chef’s direction, but at the last second he decided he needed to say something he hadn’t had the chance to say the night before. “Oh, and Meg?”

She tilted her head and squeezed the towel really hard in her hands. Castiel ignored the implicit threat.

“Thank you.”

“At your service,” she replied.

And there was Alice, in that little smirk and in the way she crooked an eyebrow at him.

It was only when he crossed the ballroom doors again that Castiel remembered he hadn’t returned the courtesy of telling her his real name.


	3. Chapter 3

“Uncle Cas!”

Castiel barely had any time to fold his newspaper and stand up before the seventeen-year-old hurricane in a yellow dress that was making her way through Penn Station practically crashed in his arms.

“There’s my girl!” Castiel smiled as he hugged his niece.

“Alright, alright, Hael,” said Hannah, walking up behind them in her usual business suit and, as usual, carrying her enormous bag. “Give the man some room to breathe.”

“How are you, sister?” Castiel asked as his twin put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

It was hard to believe, but it had been almost eighteen years since that rainy night when he had found Hannah crying in the bathroom over a positive pregnancy test. They were sixteen, and their mother had forbidden Hannah from seeing her boyfriend months before.

“He is a good for nothing that only wants your money,” she had declared with the same stern expression she’d had when she’d announced to her children that their father had died. “He will ruin you, Hannah.”

“He’s not like that!” Hannah had protested with tears in her eyes. “He promised me he’d take care of our baby!”

Castiel was sure she hadn’t meant to drop that bomb on Naomi that way. He’d never seen their mother so furious, and he’d never seen her so furious afterwards.

“You little slut!” she’d screamed while grabbing Hannah’s arm and dragging her out of the dining room. It hadn’t made any difference: Castiel, Michael, and Gabriel had still heard her shouting: “You will get rid of that bastard, you hear me? You will get rid of it or you will stop living under my roof!”

Hannah, obviously, had chosen the second.

“Hannah, please,” Castiel had begged her as his sister hurriedly packed some clothes later that same night. “Think about this.”

“I can’t kill my baby, Cas,” she’d replied. “I don’t care how hard is going to be. I can’t.”

They had both cried. They were the youngest of the Novaks, and ever since they were children, they had never been apart longer than a weekend. They shared the same dark raven hair and the same shade of bright blue in their eyes. They weren’t just siblings, they were best friends, and the thought of losing her had been almost unbearable to Cas. But she’d made her decision, and she hadn’t even looked back when Zeke, her boyfriend, had picked her up on his motorcycle.

Then Hannah had gone radio silent for two years. Whenever Cas brought up (however timidly) the possibility of contacting her, Naomi would fly into a rage that ended with something smashed against the wall. So Cas had learnt to keep his mouth shut until he turned eighteen and had access to some of his trust fund. The investigator had found an address in New Jersey and a phone number. She still lived with Zeke and their daughter.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Hannah had assured him after the initial surprise of his call wore off. “Really.”

She still stuttered when she lied.

“If you ever need anything, please come to me,” Castiel had told her. “You’re still my sister, Hannah.”

He’d left her his address and hung up with the sad certainty he wouldn’t hear from her again.

So he hadn’t expected to hear a knock on his door some months later at three in the morning during the coldest night in January, or to find his twin standing in his doorway with a black eye and a small bundle of clothes in her arms.

“Hi,” Hannah had said, her voice breaking slightly. “Can we stay with you for a while?”

The bundle of clothes had moved, and Castiel had found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of his two-year-old niece.

That same niece was now sitting in from of him in their favorite restaurant, taking spoonful after spoonful of her banana split while she gave Cas a detailed reviewed of her prom dance.

“And then – you won’t believe this, uncle Cas – they called _my_ name!” she told him excitedly.

“So you’re the prom queen?” Castiel asked. He was aware he was smiling like a prideful fool, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the least.

“Yes!” Hael’s exclamation was so loud a couple of people in the table next to theirs turned their heads in her direction. “And everybody was so sure Krissy was going to get elected. I didn’t even move for like, two entire minutes, thinking it must’ve been a mistake.”

“We didn’t even have to bribe voters with cupcakes,” Hannah added.

“That was the second best part of this week,” Hael declared.

“Wait, what was the first?” Castiel asked, confused. He must have got lost in the countdown somewhere. But then Hael smiled, and Hannah smiled back, like they were sharing a secret. “What?” Castiel asked, turning from one to the other.

“Tell him,” Hannah encouraged her daughter, who was practically jumping in her seat as she took an envelope with a letterhead that Castiel immediately recognized from her purse.

“You got accepted?!” he cried out, and it was his turn to receive sideway glances from the other diner guests.

“Yes!” Hael repeated, with a face-splitting grin. “I’m going to Dartmouth, just like you!”

“Oh, my God,” Castiel jumped from his chair, not caring everyone was staring now, and hugged Hael tight while he kissed her in the forehead. “I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you!” Hael smiled, blushing from the excitement. “And they gave me a full scholarship, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Castiel bit down his laughter. Just like her mother, Hael wouldn’t accept anything she hadn’t earned through her own hard work. So of course, later on, when they were taking a stroll across Central Park and Hannah asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the scholarship thing, would you?” his first impulse was to lie:

“No, of course not.”

“Cas?” Hannah said, and somehow she made it sound like a threat. Castiel made sure Hael was far away on the bridge and too distracted looking at the ducks to hear them.

“I might have made a call to an old professor who happens to have a certain influence in these decisions,” he admitted without looking at his twin.

“Castiel!” Hannah protested.

“Look, she deserves this, Hannah,” Castiel said, raising his hands because he was sure his sister was going to start hitting him. “She’s the first of her class, she works harder than any anyone, she's an excellent girl. She could’ve gotten into any college, and they’re lucky she chose them.”

“Yes, but still…” Hannah began.

“And it didn’t even matter,” Castiel shrugged. “Professor Rogers said she was at the top their list, anyway.”

Hannah stared at his face, her mouth slightly opened, like she couldn’t quite process what Castiel was implying. Then she burst out laughing as she waved a triumphant fist in the air. Castiel imagined she was rubbing it in the face of all the generations of dead Novaks that would’ve looked down on her daughter for the circumstances of her birth.

“What’s so funny?” Hael asked, running back to them.

“Nothing, sweetie.” Hannah put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Your uncle Cas was just telling me about your uncle Michael’s wedding.”

“Oh, you mean the wedding we didn’t go to because our invitation got lost in the mail?” Hael asked, rolling her eyes.

“That’d be the wedding, yes,” said Hannah with the same irritated expression as her daughter.

“Rachel wanted to invite you,” Castiel tried to say, and even he realized it was a feeble attempt at a defense. Hannah arched an eyebrow, skeptical, while Hael shook her head and moved to take Castiel by the arm.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter if it was the wedding of the century,” she said. “We want nothing to do with them. You’re the only one who ever gave a fuck about us.”

“Hael!” Hannah scorned her, but the effect was greatly diminished but the smirk she could barely hold back.

“It’s true, mom!”

They went on a lengthy debate about family policies in which no one took the Novaks’ side. Castiel told the anecdote of Gabriel falling “drunk” on his ass, and Hannah found it hilarious (“Oh, my God, and what did Mother do?!”). The hours flew by, and before Castiel realized, it was time for them to go home, so he walked them back to Penn Station.

“You’re going to come to the ceremony, aren’t you?” Hael asked while they waited for their train. “I’m gonna be giving the first speech, and I’m really nervous…”

“Of course I am,” Castiel said, and was about to add something about how he was sure she was going to be great, when Hannah intervened.

“Of course he is. He has absolutely nothing else to do.”

“Oh, no,” Castiel sighed, because he knew what was coming next.

“You need to get a girlfriend, uncle Cas,” said Hael, in a matter-of-fact tone that was eerily like Naomi’s.

“I’m fine,” Castiel complained.

“Really?” asked Hael. “There’s no one you even like a little?”

To be fair, Castiel had recently met a girl he liked, a lot, and he had thought about her last night before going to sleep and again that morning in the shower, but he couldn’t divulge that information without causing his beloved niece to never look at him the same way again.

So instead he put a hand on each of their shoulders and brought them closer to him.

“I have two wonderful gals right here.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Hannah declared. But before they could keep harassing him, their train stopped on the platform.

“Goodbye, uncle Cas,” Hael said, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss him on the cheek.

“Go find us some seats, honey,” Hannah sent her, and she turned to Cas. “You know she only says it ‘cause she wants you to be happy, right?”

“Yes, I know,” Castiel nodded. “And I mean it. I’m fine on my own.”

“For now,” Hannah accepted. “But you do need someone, Cas. Someone they can’t take away from you like they did with Rachel.”

“No one took Rachel away from me,” Castiel protested.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Hannah sighed and gave him a quick hug. “Take care, brother.”

And with that, she boarded the train. Castiel stayed on the platform to wave at Hael, who had her nose pressed against the window. She stuck her tongue out and waved back before the train caught speed, and then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone. As usual, Castiel remained there a couple of minutes longer than necessary, letting the wave of melancholic loneliness wash over him. It was always the same, and it had been the same since that time when Hael turned three and Hannah decided they couldn’t keep living on Castiel’s generosity.

“Of course I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, and of course you’re still going to be part of our lives,” she’d said then. “But I have to make it on my own, Cas. I have to show my daughter you can own up to your mistakes and still make it.”

And she had gone to do exactly that. She’d gotten her GED while working part-time and she’d managed to find a place for her and Hael in Newark. Twice a month, they’d come to visit Castiel, and although he’d noticed on occasion that Hael’s dresses had more patches than they could hold, Hannah had never asked for anything. Castiel admired his sister’s determination. He was certain that if he had been in the same situation, cut off from the family’s fortune and forced into menial jobs to provide for a child, he’d have drowned in desperation and gone back to beg for Naomi’s forgiveness.

“We’re here, sir,” the taxi driver announced.

Castiel paid and walked into his building. He always gave Dean, his chauffer, the day off when Hannah and Hael were coming. Castiel was perfectly capable of driving his own car, but Naomi insisted he needed a chauffeur; which made Castiel suspect that Dean was in fact his mother’s spy. But it didn’t matter: he was sure Naomi knew he kept contact with his sister. The fact that Castiel acted like he tried to conceal it from her was a courtesy towards Naomi. If he’d been blatant about it, she would have thrown a fit.

The door of his apartment closed behind him, and Castiel was trapped alone with his thoughts and a long night ahead of him. He went to his desk and tried to get some work done (his load had doubled since Michael was away on his honeymoon), but after two hours of staring at ciphers without absorbing any meaning, he gave up.

Maybe he should order some pizza, go crazy on the toppings and watch a movie. He turned on his laptop to do exactly that, but when once he had the navigator opened, he hesitated. He didn’t want to eat a pizza all on his own. That’d be too sad. And besides, he’d had a pretty big lunch. What he was really craving was some company. A specific person’s company.

He tapped his fingers on his desk before typing “Sands’ Escort Agency” on the search engine. The website displayed the name in golden letters over a violet background. There was a picture of Josie Sands, the woman herself, on the welcome page: she was a redhead with a very impressive smile and fingernails so long they made Castiel shiver. The agency promised beauty, companionship, and above all, discretion.

Castiel scrolled down to find the pictures of the escorts, all of them wearing elegant night dresses and inviting smiles. They all had names like “Felicity” or “Sapphire”. “Alice” was on the third row, with her head leaned back like she was laughing at a joke. Castiel remembered the way she’d laughed after they’d finished their first round; he remembered how soft her skin felt under his fingertips. In fact, that whole night was pretty well imprinted in his mind and he had replayed it more than a couple of times in the last two weeks.

What was also very well imprinted in his mind was her look of annoyance as she rubbed the champagne stain off his shirt, her tiresome expression and her irritated tone of voice. “Alice” had been seductive and playful, Meg just wanted him to disappear from her life pronto.

And yet, Castiel couldn’t stop reorganizing those two scenarios to put them in correlation: what if when Meg crashed into him had been the first time they saw each other? What if they had flirted and exchanged phone numbers? What if he had taken her on a proper date and then asked her to join him in his hotel room? What then? Would she have said yes? Would she have told him to take it slow? Would she have given him a goodnight kiss before climbing into a taxi instead of a peck on the cheek while he slumbered?

He shook his head. He knew those sort of thoughts were futile. She was just a stranger he’d happened to meet twice, and anything beyond that was a product of his overactive imagination.

Then why the Hell was he dialing the number of the agency?

“Sand’s Escort Service,” said the same cheery voice that had greeted him the first time he’d called. “How may I help you?”

“Uhm, yes, hi,” Castiel stuttered. “I, uh… I was wondering if maybe… uhm, Alice could…”

A little voice that sounded disturbingly like his mother’s kept screaming at him, asking just what he thought he was doing, but Castiel ignored it.

“I’m afraid Alice is unavailable at the moment,” the girl on the phone informed him. “If you’d like to contract the services of any other of our escorts…”

“No, that’s fine,” Castiel interrupted her a little brusquely. He cleared his throat and added in a calmer tone: “Thank you.”

He hung up and hit his forehead against his desk. Well, of course, what was he expecting? And now a lot of invasive images were running through his mind: of Alice laughing with other men they way she’d laughed with him, touching them like she’d touched him, kissing them like she…

Castiel didn’t need anyone to tell him what an idiot he was for getting attached to a call girl; he was well aware of it. Maybe if he had never crossed Meg, the real girl, he wouldn’t have, and “Alice” would be just a nice memory of that one time he’d let his hair down. As it was, he scrolled up the website again until he found what he was looking for, wrote it down, and then went to bed to not sleep for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

The following day was grey and a little chilly. It was a torture for Castiel to stay at work all day, but he forced himself to pay attention to all the presentations and to smile when Michael started a videoconference to check up on him.

“You should see Venice this time of the year,” he told Castiel. “It’s beautiful.”

Castiel knew it was beautiful. Rachel was obsessed with Venice; she’d always talked about going there someday.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time,” Castiel said.

By the time they were done, he wasn’t even sad anymore. He was angry. Was Michael trying to rub it in his face that he had married Castiel’s ex-girlfriend? And then he wondered why people considered him a douchebag.

In any case, that prompted Castiel to go forward with the decision he was so sure he’d backpedaled off at the last minute. When his turn at the office finished, he slipped Dean a hundred dollar bill and told him to leave the car at the building’s garage and take the rest of the afternoon off. When Dean frowned, maybe thinking it was too weird he’d get two days off in a row, Castiel slipped him another bill. Dean muttered “Whatever you say, boss,” and disappeared.

Castiel found a taxi, and fifteen minutes later, he was standing outside the door of the physical location of Sands’ Escorts Agency. He stared at it, squinting. It looked nothing like a place that promoted semi-legal prostitution. Yes, the window panes were drawn and there was nothing on the door except for the number, but still, it could have any sort of house with an office attached, and well, he was already there. No need to get all squeamish now.

The door opened a few seconds after he rang the doorbell. A small brunette girl in a three piece suit and a pair of tortoise shell glasses looked at him with a polite smile.

“Can I help you?” she asked, and Castiel thought he recognized the voice on the phone that had answered him the night before.

“Yes,” Castiel said, and he cleared his throat to adopt the same voice he used in his office when he wanted to sound all professional. “I was wondering if I could speak with Mrs. Sands, please.”

“Mrs. Sands is busy right now,” said the girl, a little too fast, which made Castiel think that was the standard answer when someone needed to speak with her boss.

“Maybe you can help me,” Castiel insisted. “I am trying to locate one of the girls that works here?”

The girl tilted her head. “I see,” she said. “Just a moment, please,” she added before closing the door.

Castiel crossed his arms across his chest. His long brown trench coat was way too light for the breeze that was blowing that day. What the hell, they were supposed to be in May, why was it so…?

The door opened again, and a tall, muscular guy that seemed to have been plucked directly from an action movie appeared instead of the girl.

“Mrs. Sands will see you now,” the guy notified him, with a stare so penetrating Castiel was sure he was trying to locate all his weakness and used them to torture him if he put one toe over the line.

“T-Thank you,” Castiel muttered, and followed the man inside. The reception was decorated with taste, with pictures on the wall and mahogany furniture. The short girl that had attended to him was sitting at a desk with three phones and speaking through a fourth one:

“Sands’ Escort Service, how may I help you?”

The tall man led Castiel through a door into the main office, where the redhead woman whose picture Castiel had seen at the website was typing on a computer. She didn’t pay attention to them for a couple of seconds, even though Castiel was pretty sure she was well aware of their presence. He recognized the tactic: she was establishing who was in charge there.

“Thanks, Inias, that’ll be all,” Mrs. Sands said finally, and the man left after shooting another warning glare in Castiel’s direction. “Have a seat, Mr…?”

“Novak,” Castiel said, automatically, and then wondered stupidly if he should have given her a pseudonym as he sank into one of the comfortable armchairs in front of her desk.

“Mr. Novak,” Josie Sands interlocked her fingers, and yes, her nails were just as menacing as they looked in the site. “You must know we are not in the habit of divulging our employees’ personal information.”

“I imagined so, but…”

“I have been in this business for a long time,” Josie Sands interrupted him. “Unlike other agencies, I take care of my girls. And trust me, you aren’t the first creep that comes knocking on our door, and you won’t be the last. I know how to deal with the likes of you.”

“I am not a creep, I merely…”

“So, Mr. Novak, before this conversation goes any further, there is this little fact you need to be aware of,” Mrs. Sands interrupted him again with a predatory smile. “I don’t care for you. I don’t care who you are, or how much money or influence you have. I guarantee you, I have more. And if you dare hurt one hair of any of my girls’ heads, I will find you and I will destroy you. Are we clear?”

Castiel didn’t realize he’d been crouching in fear until he had to straighten his back to look at Mrs. Sands in the eye.

“I assure you, I mean her no harm,” he promised. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but I have no other way to contact her. And also, I thought this would be a… neutral meeting point, should she agree to an encounter.”

Mrs. Sands was now looking at him with a mix of exasperation and curiosity. Castiel imagined most men had run away with what was left of their dignity after that speech. Him? Well… if agreeing to be the best man at the wedding of his brother and the love his life wasn’t a sign of complete lack of dignity, nothing was.

“Who is it that you’re trying to find?” Mrs. Sands finally asked.

“Her… artistic name is Alice,” Castiel said. He was tempted to add he knew her real name was Meg, but he didn’t want to risk having his ass kicked out by Inias.

“And may I ask why?”

Castiel cleared his throat, and again tried to look like he was a professional trying to strike a deal.

“I have a business proposal for her.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, how it’d go?”

Meg groaned loudly and threw herself face down on the couch. She didn’t need to look at Ruby, her roommate, to know that there was a sympathetic expression on her face.

“That bad, huh?” Ruby asked.

“I swear the guy gets creepier every time,” Meg complained without raising her head. “I hate him.”

“We all hate him,” Ruby nodded and patted her in the back.

Meg’s cellphone started vibrating inside her jacket, and she pulled it out with another groan. She hoped it wasn’t Tessa with one of her imaginary crises, because she _really_ wasn’t in the mood for dealing with that.

“Hello?” she muttered.

“Hi, girl, Abaddon wants you in the office,” said Cecily’s cheery voice on the other end.

“What? Right now?” Meg sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Are you kidding me? I just finished a session!”

“I know, but…”

“I just finished a session with _Crowley_ ,” Meg specified. “I literally _just_ got home, and I desperately need a shower.”

“And some ice cream,” Ruby added from behind her computer. “And probably a nap.”

“Oh, dear,” Cecily said, and Meg could practically picture her shivering. “Okay, I’ll tell her to re-schedule.”

Meg was about to thank her and let her hang up when a sudden rush of guilt stopped her. What if it was important? What if Abaddon wanted to offer her a raise or something? She wasn’t a patient woman, and she wouldn’t take it lightly if Meg refused to meet with her.

“Wait, hold up,” she stopped Cecily. “What’s this about?”

“Well, there’s a guy here and he says he’s got a business proposal for you,” Cecily started, and Meg could just picture her boss raising all the red flags and calling whatever ex-military bodyguard she had available at that time. “We can tell him to fuck off. Inias is dying to kick someone’s ass,” Cecily added, like she had read Meg’s mind.

Once again, Meg was about to the sensible thing and tell her to go right ahead and get rid of him, but then an annoying suspicion started creeping inside her mind.

“Who’s the guy?” she asked.

“No idea, didn’t catch his name.”

“Describe him.”

“Dark hair, blue eyes, shabby trench coat,” said Cecily, and then added with a dreamy sigh. “Hot.”

Meg closed her eyes again for a second, in order to gather around all the weird thoughts that started firing up in her head.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

* * *

 

She showered, changed, and called a cab in record time. All through it, she kept mentally screaming at herself to not get her hopes up, that it could be just any other casual client that happened to fit that description.

After all, why would Castiel Novak (and yes, maybe she had Googled him, and maybe, just maybe, she’d spent ten good minutes in stunned silence at finding just how much of a big deal this guy and his brothers were) try to contact her? What could he possibly want with her? Their encounter the following day had been embarrassing for them both, and Meg was sure he’d want to forget about it as soon as possible.

So maybe it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. If it wasn’t him, she’d just have to tell Abaddon that and he’d never bother her again. No big deal.

But what if it was _him,_ though? What if, against all odds, it was Castiel? What if it was her Jimmy?

Meg had no time to freak out about that possibility about the fact she was thinking about him as “hers”. The cab was already parking in front of the office. Her hands trembled a little when she reached for the handle, but after breathing in a couple of times like Ruby had taught her during her yoga/alternative lifestyle phase, she lifted her head and walked in like her heart wasn’t about to jump out of her chest.

“I’m here,” she announced. Cecily, who was on the phone, pointed to Abaddon’s office without even looking at Meg.

“Yes, we can instruct her to wear that,” she was saying while Meg walked in. “No, _that_ you’ll have to discuss with her…”

Meg closed the door behind her, drowning Cecily’s overtly friendly tone, and turned to Abaddon’s desk.

He was next to the armchair destined for visitors, and awkwardly looking in her direction. He obviously had stood up when he saw her come in. For a split-second their eyes met across the room, and Meg had to struggle with the immense wave of relief she felt running down her spine. It was only then she realized that she really _was_ expecting to see him, like they had an… an appointment of some sort (she dithered at the edge of thinking “date”, and then shook her head).

“Hello,” she said, with what she hoped was a tranquil smirk.

“Ah, yes, Alice,” Abaddon said and pointed at the empty armchair with her inches long red nails. “Please, sit down. I understand you and Mr. Novak are already acquaintances?”

“You could say that,” Meg said, delicately as she obeyed her boss. She had to use all her willpower to keep her eyes on Abaddon.

“Mr. Novak was just explaining me the details of what he has in mind,” her boss continued.

“Okay,” Meg said, with a little nod. “And?”

“And I was telling him I cannot approve of it in any way,” the boss continued in a harsh tone. “But I considered you still have the right to listen to his proposal.”

Only then Meg allowed herself to take a good look at Castiel. As Cecily had said, he was wearing a light brown trench coat, even though they were in the middle of freaking May. He had loosened up his blue tie, and his hands were pressed against the arms of the chair a little too tight. His eyes moved nervously from Abaddon to Meg, like an actor who had forgotten his lines. He cleared his throat a little too loud.

“Yes. Right,” he stuttered. “Well, Alice, as you… as you can imagine, I’m a busy man,” he started, and Meg got the feeling he was gaining confidence as he spoke. “I don’t have the time or the patience for maintaining a stable relationship. Yet, sometimes, I find myself in need of… human contact.”

“That’s one way to put it,” muttered Abaddon, and when Meg looked at her, she was staring at her screen, like the dialogue between the other two people in her office held no interest to her at all.

“I know,” said Meg.

“Y-You… know?” Castiel repeated, confused.

“I know the type of man you are, Mr. Novak,” said Meg. “I deal with a lot of businessman looking to unwind for one night.”

A weird expression flickered in Castiel’s eyes, and Meg barely had time to wonder if she’d said something wrong before it disappeared again.

“What I don’t understand is why you made me come here today,” Meg continued, in the polite tone of voice she used when an asshole patron was screaming at her about their burnt steak and threatening her with no tips. “You can request for my company any time you desire to do so, through the agency.”

“You are not always available,” Castiel pointed.

“Then you can request somebody else’s company,” Meg said, and she swore she could hear Abaddon biting back a chuckle.

Castiel looked mildly exasperated at Meg’s lack of understanding of what he was insinuating, but the truth was, Meg was very aware of what was at play. She just needed the words to be said out loud and clear.

“I am looking to be your _only_ client, M… Alice,” Castiel declared, obviously tired of beating around the bush.

“And I told Mr. Novak that would imply you being let go off the agency,” Abaddon finally intervened. “We can accept the occasional regular client, but if you are to attend to one person exclusively… well, we would have to erase your profile from the page, since you’d no longer be on call.”

Meg understood immediately what Abaddon was saying: if she decided to do this, she would stop counting on Josie Sands’ extensive list of contacts and lawyers that kept the agency and its workers protected, she would have to afford her own STDs tests, and she could kiss goodbye the possibility of calling Inias or any of the other guys to pick her up if she got scared in the middle of a session (it never happened to her, but just the knowledge of having that fail-safe had been enough to calm her nerves in several occasions). In short, she’d be on her own.

On the other hand, the disgusting touch of Crowley’s fingers still lingered over her skin, and just the thought of never having to deal with the likes of him ever again outweighed all of those things. But of course, there was one tiny little detail, she couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t want to sound calculating,” she said, knowing full well that’s exactly how she was about to sound and probably shatter whatever fantasy Castiel had of the outcome of this negotiation. “But can we discuss the matter of payment?”

“Yes, of course, what kind of business offering would this be if I didn’t present it with a proposed wage?” Castiel’s expression was unreadable, and Meg got the impression that maybe he knew exactly where he was stepping and he wasn’t so naïve after all. “As I understand it, you’re currently making an average of six to eight thousand dollars a month, correct?”

“That’d be approximate,” Meg admitted.

“I am willing to pay you fifteen thousand,” said Castiel, and he added something else, but Meg had stopped listening. A series of numbers had started rolling behind her eyes, as she made subtractions and additions as fast as she could. The possibilities of what she could do with that money were overwhelming, and she barely managed to shut the voice inside her head that told her she should say yes right this instant.

“… you would be joining me in my apartment every weekend, from Friday night to Sunday evening,” Castiel was saying. “Hopefully this will be… convenient to you.”

Meg frowned at the odd of the phrasing, and then she realized Castiel was trying to prevent Abaddon from finding out they had met outside their client-escort relation. She supposed she should be grateful for it, but a part of her brain was still busy doing math and her tone came out colder than she intended when she said:

“Thank you. That’s… very generous of you. If you don’t mind, I would like to give it some thought before my final answer.”

“Yes, of course,” Castiel said. He didn’t seem offended or anxious at Meg’s plea for more time. He stood up, took out his wallet from the inside of his trench coat, and handed a card with his name and his number to Meg. “Please, let me know as soon as you’ve decided.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” said Abaddon. She pressed the intercom on her desk. “Cecily, could you please send Inias in to escort Mr. Novak to the exit?”

“Hello again, Inias,” Castiel greeted the bodyguard. “Have you decided the best way to break my neck yet?”

“Don’t tempt him,” Meg said.

She was staring at the card, but she looked up when she heard a half-repressed giggle. Even though Castiel was having his arm held with a little more force than necessary and receiving Inias’ most murderous glare, he was still amused at Meg’s joke.

And she couldn’t have explained why, but for some reason, she found that endearing. It was like going back to the hotel room where they’d met, the good spirit and the friendliness they’d shared during that brief night.

“Well, what a terrible waste of time,” Abaddon commented as soon as Castiel was out, and she leaned to pick up the bin, put in on her desk, and pushed it in Meg’s direction. Three awkward seconds passed before she realized Meg had no intention of getting rid of the card. “Honey, you can’t possibly be considering this!”

“It’s _a lot_ of money, Josie,” Meg said, because she knew Abaddon would completely dismiss any other explanation. “It’s double what I’m making now. I can’t pass it up just like that!”

“I know,” Abaddon said. “I know you need it, but still, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“That’s what I thought before coming to work here,” Meg pointed. “And without this gig, I would have sunk a long time ago.”

“It’s a completely different deal, Meg,” her boss insisted. “You don’t know what it’s like to be someone’s kept girl.”

“And you do?” Meg lashed out, and immediately wished she hadn’t: the hurt and fury on Abaddon’s normally composed expression were more terrifying that anything she’d ever seen. “Oh. You do know,” she realized.

“It’s wonderful at first,” Abaddon said, in a tone that was oozing with resentment. “You get to sleep with the same man every night; you get to be treated like a human being for once. Hell, you might even delude yourself into believing these guys actually care for you… until they pull the rug from beneath your feet. And they always do.”

Meg didn’t want to ask how many times had Abaddon had the rug pulled, but she suspected there’d been way too many. Maybe she was right. Maybe the cost was too great.

“Also, I don’t believe him,” the boss continued.

“What do you mean?” Meg asked, frowning.

“I don’t think he can afford to spend all that money in monthly basis,” Abaddon clarified.

“What are you talking about? He’s loaded,” Meg said. “He manages several of his family’s business…”

“Exactly, his _family_ ,” Abaddon cut her off. “We don’t know to how much money he has access, because the fortune belongs to his family. And for what I’ve heard, Naomi Novak’s financial management would make Hetty Green’s lifestyle look lavish.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Meg said, remembering all the expensive wine she’d had to pour at the wedding.

Abbadon threw her a suspicious glance. “And in any case, how do you know what he does?”

Meg knew the answer to that question, would cause her a lot of trouble, so she shrugged and hoped she didn’t look too guilty. Ultimately, it must have worked, because Abaddon sighed and let it go.

“Well, at least let me make a call, before you make up your mind,” she said. “I know someone who can give us a little perspective on Mr. Novak’s numbers, so you can know where you’re standing.”

“Is that legal?” Meg asked.

“Does it matter?” Abaddon shot back, and Meg guessed that for a woman like her, it really didn’t.

“Thank you, Josie,” she said, instead, and she meant it. “For watching my back and such.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Abaddon said, with a wide smile. “You’re still taking Wednesday night off?”

“Yes,” Meg said. “I’m having dinner with my brother.”

If Abaddon felt any sympathy for her, she didn’t show it, and Meg was more infinitely grateful for it than for anything else.

 

* * *

 

It was already dark on Wednesday night when Meg stepped on Tessa and Tom’s porch, carrying a bottle of wine (just cheap, regular wine from the store around the corner of her apartment) that had long since lost its coolness. She rang the bell and grimaced at her watch. She was twenty minutes late, and Tessa would not let her live it down.

“There you are!” Tessa said indeed, when she opened the door. “We thought you got lost or something!”

“I never get lost,” said Meg, nonchalantly, while letting Tessa take her light jacket. “More like… I accidentally end up taking the panoramic route.”

“Right, right,” Tessa rolled her eyes at her, and snatch the bottle of wine from her hands. “Go say hi to Tom, would you? He’s in the living room with Missouri.”

Tom didn’t even notice Meg had walked in: his attention was completely absorbed by the game. He sat at the edge of the horrible peach-colored couch with Missouri by his side. The black, large nurse had a pair of knitting needles and a ball of wool in her lap, but they were absolutely forgotten as she yelled at the screen:

“Come on, you little idiot! My grandma can run faster than you!”

“Yeah, and her grandmother’s dead!” Tom added, waving his fist at the TV.

“… and… TOUCHDOWN!”

The loud cheering coming from the TV was only surpassed by Missouri and Tom’s screaming, and Meg couldn’t hold the laughter when they high fived and then did a little victory dance in their seats.

“When did you get here?” asked Tom when he saw her. He picked his cane up off the floor, and struggled to stand up. Missouri kept a careful eye on him, but she didn’t try to help him out. “Come give your big brother a hug,” he gasped, when he was finally up.

Meg walked up to him, and pulled him close. She was never going to get used to how much weight Tom had lost and how fragile he looked. During his teenage years, he had been a quarterback, all muscle and fibers, and he’d towered several inches above Meg. Now they were about the same height, and she got the feeling he would break if she squeezed too hard.

“You call that a hug?” Tom mocked her, but Meg just shook her head and before Tom could feel offended, Missouri stood up and hugged Meg as well.

“How you doing, girl?” she asked.

“I’m good,” said Meg, with a little shrug. “You’ll be staying for dinner, too?”

“Nah, that’s a family thing,” said Missouri, with a dismissive gesture.

“Bah, you’re practically family,” Tom commented.

“’Practically’ being the key word,” said Missouri, pinching Tom’s cheek. “And come on, you little hassle. I still get to poke you with a needle one more time before I go.”

“No! Meg, don’t let her!” Tom complained, waving his cane dramatically as Missouri dragged him away to the bathroom.

“Sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” Meg smiled.

The last couple of years had been rough to Tom. He had lost almost all his body weight, he had lost his hair (he only now was starting to recover some fuzz on his head), he had lost his house and had to move into this smaller one with second-hand furniture, but not once did he lose his sense of humor. That was what Meg always admired more about her brother.

She went to the kitchen to see if there was anything she could do help Tessa (imagining there wouldn’t be, since Tessa considered that anything she didn’t do herself was not done right)… and found her sister-in-law sobbing quietly over the sink.

“Oh, Meg,” Tessa rapidly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Tess, are you okay?” Meg asked, walking up at to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I…” Tessa began, but Missouri’s voice came floating from the living room, interrupting them:

“I’m leaving!”

“Goodbye, Missouri!” Tessa screamed back, with a voice so firm nobody would’ve thought she had been falling apart just a second ago. “See you tomorrow!”

Tom limped inside the kitchen with his unwavering smirk. He stuck his tongue out, and ostentatiously rubbed his ass.

“She means well, but God, I swear she makes the injections hurt more on purpose,” he commented humorously. “Now, what’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Tessa complained.

And just like that, the moment for tears was postponed. The conversation during the dinner consisted on Tom going on and on about the games and who he thought had more chances to end up winning the next Super Bowl. Tessa and Meg commented some anecdotes that happened to them at the catering service, and Tom laughed so hard he almost choked on his water. All in all, the atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant, but Meg couldn’t shake the feeling Tessa was forcing her smile and Tom was going the extra mile to cheer them both up.

Something was wrong, but Meg knew that asking point-blank what it was would get her nowhere.

Finally, after desert was served and promptly devoured (Meg didn’t point out that despite his claims of starvation, her brother hadn’t finished his dinner and only took a spoonful or two of ice cream), Tessa got up to make some coffee, and Tom got serious.

“Hey, girl,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Meg extended her hand to touch his, and mentally braced herself.

“Don’t make that face,” Tom shook his head. “It ain’t that bad.”

Tessa came back with the coffee, and her expression indicated Meg that Tom was lying and it was bad, it was very bad.

“Well, what is it?” she asked.

Tom hesitated and avoided her gaze, which made Tessa lose her patience.

“Dammit, Tom, you can’t keep it from her!” she exclaimed.

“I know,” Tom answered, in the same irritated tone. Tessa looked away, but not before her eyes turned watery and red. “No, baby, come on, I didn’t mean that,” Tom apologized, putting an arm around his wife’s waist. Tessa hid her face in his neck, but Meg could still see the quivering of her shoulders. She waited, without moving a muscle, and trying to ignore the pit of concern that was gathering in her stomach.

Finally, after two tortuous minutes, Tom found his voice again.

“My knee was aching. More than usual, I mean,” he said. “So we went to the doctor. It’s, uh… well, apparently the tumors are back. Tumor, singular. A small one, here,” he pointed to his leg.

“Okay,” Meg said, and her voice came out broken. She didn’t realize there was a lump in her throat, so she took a deep breath before asking: “So, what now?”

“Same as last time. Radiation, chemo, awful tasting pills,” Tom waved a hand, trying to make it seem like it was not a big deal, but nobody believed him. “Cheer up, lil’ sis. I beat this crab’s ass once, I can do it again.”

“And I’m gonna help you out as much as I can,” Meg assured him. “Same as last time.”

“No, Meg,” Tessa lifted her head. Her eyes were puffy, and her face had lost all color, like the fact they were discussing this out loud made it all the more terrible. “You’ve done so much for us already…”

“And I’m gonna keep doing it,” Meg stated, categorically. “You’re my family, guys. And that’s it.”

 

* * *

 

Meg managed to keep it together all the way to her apartment. Ruby was out on a call, which was a relief, because it meant could just sit on the couch, bury her face in her hands and cry freely without anyone asking why. Tom had tried to make it sound like it wasn’t so serious, but the concern in Tessa’s eyes had told Meg everything she needed to know.

She tried to imagine her life without Tom’s laughter in it, and although she’d been doing exactly that since he was first diagnosed, it was still impossible. Her brother had always been there for her and just the idea that he wouldn’t be any more terrified her. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to scream, and throw stuff at the walls, and punch someone in the face, but all she could do was keep crying like a scared little girl.

She was so busy doing that, in fact, that she completely missed Abaddon’s first call. When the phone rang again, Meg had to cover her mouth for a few seconds before muttering a weak “Hello?”

“Are you okay?” her boss’ voice came to her. “Were you crying?”

“Yeah,” Meg admitted, because there was no point denying it. “I-I was watching _The Notebook._ ”

“Okay.” Luckily, Abaddon chose not to comment on her blatant lie and just cut to the chase. “My friend called me back. Novak’s legit. He can definitely afford to pay you what he offered.”

Meg closed her eyes for a second, and started doing math again. Numbers always calmed her. Numbers had logic, numbers she could deal with.

“You’re going to accept it, I assume?” Abaddon asked.

“Yes,” Meg replied. “Thank you for everything, Josie.”

“I’m keeping your pictures in my hard drive anyway,” said Abaddon. “Just so you know. You can come back whenever you want.”

Meg thanked her once again, hung up and went to bed. She’d call Castiel in the morning, once she’d got her desperation under control and her voice to sound firm again.


	5. Chapter 5

Meg was looking at the chaos of clothes over her bed with a frown, while Ruby kept picking up underwear and dresses and saying things like: “What about this?” or “Oh, this is nice. Can I borrow it?”

“Could you please focus?” Meg exploded, finally.

“I’m trying to,” Ruby lied. “But I don’t understand why this is so important. You specifically asked if he wanted you to wear something special and he specifically told you no.”

“Well, I don’t believe him,” Meg replied bluntly. “Men don’t just hire a call girl for the weekend without having something particularly depraved in mind.”

“Or maybe you won the lottery and the guy isn’t very creative,” Ruby suggested. Meg raised an eyebrow and her roommate grimaced. “Yeah, it sounded even more improbable when I said it out loud.”

“I’ll find out soon enough, I guess,” Meg sighed as she started tossing her best blouses and some of her lace underwear in her duffle bag. Ruby was staring at her pensively.

“Hey,” she said. “If it goes bad, call me. Whatever time, whatever weather, I’ll come and get you, okay?”

“Thank you,” Meg said. “But I’m trying to stay positive.”

“Positive doesn’t equal stupid,” Ruby pointed out. Then she got up, put her arms around Meg’s shoulders, and hugged her tight. Meg had been such a mess the past two days it was no wonder Ruby thought she needed it, but now wasn’t the time to show it.

“I’ll be fine,” she guaranteed.

“I sure hope so. It’ll be a pain in the ass to find a new roommate if you get murdered.”

“Positivity, Ruby,” Meg groaned as the intercom buzzed. “You need to work on it.”

Downstairs, a young man in a blue uniform (seriously?) was waiting for her leaning against a silver BMW (seriously) while he typed in his cellphone. He threw her a disinterested glance.

“Miss Masters?” he inquired, and when Meg nodded, he took her bag, put it in the trunk, and then opened the backseat door for her, with the efficiency of someone who was used to doing it several times a day.

“Uh, thanks,” Meg muttered as she climbed in the car. The man smiled, obliging, and they took off.

The streets were jammed, so they zigzagged for several minutes as the driver tried to avoid traffic. Meg watched the buildings and the people passing by with a growing concern in the pit of her stomach. What if Ruby was right and it was worse than she imagined? What if something happened to her? Who would help Tom and Tessa? What if…?

“So, you’re the boss’ girl, huh?” the driver asked nonchalantly.

Meg came back to the present with a jolt. “Umh, what’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester, at your service,” he said.

“Dean,” Meg repeated. That was one of the few instructions Castiel had given her: Not to divulge the details of their agreement to Dean. Well, he didn’t say anything about small talk. “Tell me, how is it working for Castiel?”

Way to go, Meg. That wasn’t small talk. Dean shrugged.

“He’s okay,” he said. “I mean, I’ve had some assholes bosses, and Mr. Novak isn’t one of them. He gives me free days when I ask for them and tips me when he wants me to get off his back. He’s a little cold, but you know… it’s not so bad.”

Meg nodded and look outside the window again. Dean could serve as a witness in case of her murder, but what if they bought him off? She made a mental note to stop watching so much Law & Order.

“Anywhere you need to stop before we get there, Miss Masters?” Dean asked, interrupting her train of thoughts again.

“You don’t have to call me that,” she said. “Meg is fine.”

“I don’t make the rules.” Dean shrugged again. Meg would come to find out he did that a lot.

 

* * *

 

Castiel’s apartment was on top of a restored building, just a few blocks away from Central Park. The white façade was slightly threatening, and the black rooftop and windows with golden frames gave the impression the building was constantly throwing a judging stare at whoever stopped for too long in front of it. Meg’s eyes opened wide as she looked up. Yes, this was definitely where she expected a guy with a driver and fifteen grand to spare every month would live.

Dean held the door for her.

“You really don’t need to do all that,” Meg complained. “And you don’t have to carry my bag either,” she added, snatching it from his hands.

“Sorry,” Dean answered as he pushed the button in the elevator. “Hey, you should be flattered. I think he’s trying to impress you.”

“He doesn’t have to impress me,” Meg said. She was going to add something along the lines of ‘he’s already paying me to sleep with him’, but that definitely wasn’t small talk.

They crossed the hallway, and before she could protest, Dean opened the apartment’s door for her. Meg took a deep breath and walked in. She wasn’t sure what exactly was she expecting (some sort of super luxurious place, crammed with things like paintings and sculptures or whatever it was rich people collected), but Castiel’s place seemed quite simple and homely. The kitchen, dining and living room formed one big open space, with beige walls with and a parquet flooring. Dean guided her to a small hall and knocked on the left door.

“Mr. Novak, Miss Masters is here,” he informed, all formal and stiff.

Castiel appeared at the doorway, wearing a pair of thick framed glasses and a white. He seemed flustered. Meg caught a glimpse of a library and a cluttered desk behind him.

“Thank you, Dean, that will be all,” Castiel said, the words almost tumbling from his mouth.

“Goodnight, Mr. Novak,” Dean said respectfully.

He turned around and winked at Meg before making a small bow with his head, and walking out. Castiel didn’t move an inch until the door closed behind the driver, and then he sighed, before finally turning to Meg.

“Hello,” he greeted her. He took off his glasses and toyed with them nervously.

“Hello, again,” Meg said. “Where can I leave this?” she asked, pointing at her bag.

“Oh, yes,” Castiel said, like he’d completely forgotten she was spending the weekend. He opened the door at the other side of the hall. “Uh… you can put your things here.”

“Okay,” Meg frowned. There was a fluffy carpet underneath her feet, a closet to her left and another door to her right.

“That’s the bathroom, if you want to freshen up,” Castiel pointed. “Make yourself comfortable. I still have some work to do, but as soon as I’m done we can have dinner. Are you… hungry?”

Meg hadn’t stopped to think about it because her stomach had been tied up in knots all afternoon, but now that he mentioned it…

“Starving,” she said as she left her bag over the blue bedspread.

“We’re having steak and potatoes,” he added.

“That’s fine.”

Castiel hesitated a moment longer, and then he forced a smile. Meg could tell it was forced because she was doing the same thing. It was a reflex: when nervous around the client, she always chose to look as charming as she could.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Castiel said, and left.

Meg waited until he was back in his office and then opened the closet doors. It was completely empty. That was weird. She hung up her clothes and then went to the bathroom. There wasn’t a toothbrush or any bottles of shampoo near the shower, although she found some towels. Overall, the room gave the impression no one was living there, like a very elegant hotel room waiting for its next guest.

“What are you up to, Novak?” she asked her reflection. Of course, she was not going to find out if she stayed there, so she tied up her hair and went back to the living room.

Castiel already had the table ready, and was serving the food.

“Do you need help with that?” she offered.

“No, not at all,” he said, and moved the chair for her. “Sit, please.”

Well, this was not going the way Meg imagined at all. Castiel poured water in her glass, and then sat at the other end of the table, like he wanted to keep himself as far away from Meg as he physically could. They ate in awkward silence for a moment. Meg tasted the steak and decided she was having none of it. Castiel had paid her for her company, so the least she could do was make him feel accompanied.

“This is really good,” she commented. “You cooked it?”

“Oh, no, I ordered it from a little restaurant around the corner. I’m a regular there,” Castiel explained. “I couldn’t cook to save my life.”

“Huh,” Meg said. “That’s such a weird expression, don’t you think? When people say they couldn’t do something to save their lives,” she clarified when Castiel squinted at her in confusion. “What? Is a thief gonna come at them, put a gun against their heads and go: ‘Cook me dinner right now or I’ll shoot you’?”

For a moment, Meg thought her joke had fallen flat, but then Castiel snorted a little.

“I never thought about it,” he said. His smile was more relaxed, and he wasn’t clutching his fork as tight, so Meg decided she was on a good path.

“So… how was work?” she asked, as casually as she could.

“Why would you ask about that?” Castiel’s asked. His frown was back. Meg figured honesty was the best policy in this case.

“Because I don’t know what else to ask you?” she said. “If you wanna talk about something else…”

Castiel reflected upon it, and then sighed. “I don’t do much outside of work,” he confessed. “It’s very demanding.”

“What exactly do you do?” she asked. She’s already read it online, but it wouldn’t be prudent to reveal that.

“Well, my family’s business provides different services,” Castiel began. “My father patented a very efficient alarm system, and it just expanded from there. Now we sell armored vehicles to banks, we offer seminars on how to educate guard dogs to the police department; we hire and manage private security details for public figures… that sort of thing.”

“Like bodyguards for celebrities and such?” Meg asked, and Castiel nodded. “You ever met somebody famous?”

“No, my mother and my brother deal with most of the clients,” Castiel said. He rubbed his neck. “I don’t… I don’t have the personality for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I get along better with numbers than with people,” he answered. “So I’m the head of Finances; which is an elegant way to say I’m little more than a glorified tax accountant.”

“Tax accountants are important,” Meg said.

Castiel just shook his head, like the idea of him being important was amusing. It was weird. Meg had a personal preference for confident men, but there was something charming about Castiel’s modesty. It made him seemed vulnerable and unassuming. It made her want to wrap him in a blanket, spoon-feed him and just… take care of him.

What a weird thought.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, in the most casual tone she could manage. “That bed is a little small, don’t you think?”

Castiel blinked, and upon understanding what she meant, he blushed furiously.

“It-it’s big enough for you to sleep on it, isn’t it?” he stuttered.

“Wait, so you’re not…?” Meg started. “We’re not…?”

“That is the guest room. My bedroom is over there,” he clarified, pointing at another door at the other side of the apartment Meg hadn’t noticed before.

“I don’t get it,” she confessed, after some seconds of struggling with the implications. “We’re not having sex?”

“Hopefully, we are. At some point down the line,” Castiel answered. The blush was gone from his face, but he was still a bit red around the neck. “But I don’t want to force anything on you, Meg. So… I’ll let you decide when you’re ready to do that.”

Meg understood. He still didn’t want her to fake it.

“You’re way too decent for this,” she declared.

“Too… decent?” he repeated.

“To have a call girl on your payroll,” Meg said. “You told your driver to be nice to me; you had dinner with me, now you’re telling me you leave it up to me when we’re sleeping together? You’re… you’re treating me like an actual human being.”

“Did you expect something different?”

Judging by her previous experience, the sincere answer to that question was yes, but that’d be too heavy a topic to discuss at that very moment.

“Honestly, I was half-expecting a sex torture dungeon,” she said. The saddest part was that was she wasn’t joking. That was one of the paranoid ideas she had entertained with Ruby.

“Well, as I understand it, even in the context of a sex torture dungeon one should treat their partner as an actual human being,” Castiel declared, and it was weird that he’d blushed when Meg suggested they’d share a bed, but said the words ‘sex torture dungeon’ without a hint of embarrassment. “The fact that I’m paying you to be here doesn’t invalidate the fact that you deserve respect, Meg.”

Meg finished up her water in one gulp and was tempted to ask if there was anything stronger in the house. She was definitely not ready for this.

“If you’re done, I should put that in the dishwasher,” Castiel said.

“No,” Meg stood up so fast it was a miracle the chair didn’t fall down. “No, I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t have to,” Meg said. “Let me just… let me do something for you.”

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but Meg was faster. She picked up all the dishes, balancing them perfectly in her arms, and took them to the kitchen. Castiel followed her with the glasses and a little smirk on his face.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asked.

“Please, this isn’t the first fancy kitchen I’ve been at,” she replied, with a chuckle. “Tessa has dragged me to every snobby hotel and ballroom in New York City.”

She realized what she had implied only after the words had left her mouth and the dishwasher was already purring with its load.

“I didn’t mean that your brother is a snob,” she said, quickly. “Just the… you know… context of the whole… wedding was…”

“It was rather snobbish,” Castiel accepted with humorous smile. Meg forgot the reason she had been so nervous.

He walked her to her bedroom door, and if Meg hadn’t got the feeling of a date night of sorts before, now she definitely did.

“Well,” she said, fidgeting with the doorknob. “Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Ten seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Then Meg took a small step forwards, getting so close to him she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and took a moment to feel his breath on her face before kissing him. Softly, just barely grazing his lips, but that was enough to make her shudder. His hand was on her shoulder, and Meg didn’t know if Castiel meant to bring her closer or to keep her steady, because she chose that moment to end it.

She backed away, and closed the door behind her. Later she’d wonder if she hadn’t been too brusque, but the intensity of what she was feeling scared her. Her knees were trembling and her heart was about to jump out of her chest. There was a voice that sounded a lot like Abaddon’s echoing in her head, yelling at her to keep her distance, don’t get too involved, none of this is real, he’s paying you, for fuck’s sake.

But that was just it. Castiel wasn’t paying her for sex, otherwise he would’ve demanded Meg to sleep with him that same night. There was another reason entirely for her to be there, and the fact she didn’t know what it was messing with her schemes big time.

Her cellphone was flashing inside her bag. It was a message from Ruby: _How’s it going?_

Meg took a deep breath and thought about the most offhand response to that: _No sex torture dungeon._

 _You go, girl,_ Ruby texted back. _Blow his… mind._

Surprisingly, that actually helped. Meg changed into her oversized one-shoulder shirt (she hadn’t brought anything that was more suitable to sleep in) and slid under the covers, thinking. If Castiel wasn’t getting off physically, he must have been doing it mentally. He didn’t want sex, he wanted company. He wanted an extended girlfriend experience.

She could provide that.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Castiel’s mind registered was the smell of coffee. Immediately he opened his eyes, because his brain made the association _caffeine, work, late._ It took him a couple of minutes to realize it was Saturday morning. He didn’t have to go to work. He shouldn’t even be awake so early at (he took a look at his clock) nine in the morning. Okay, that was actually a fair hour to wake up. He rubbed his eyes and stumbled onto the bathroom to wash his face in order to actually wake up.

Meg was in the kitchen, wearing a grey shirt that slid down and left her right shoulder exposed and a pair of sweatpants. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was humming to herself as she moved around the kitchen. Something was sizzling in the pan.

“Good morning,” she said, with a smile, as she fished their breakfast out with a spatula.

“Is that bacon?” Castiel asked. “Did I have bacon here?”

“Yeah, you actually have a very well stocked fridge,” Meg answered cheerfully. “Who do I have to thank for that? Dean? Or do you have a house-elf that does all the work around here?”

“Uh… Dean occasionally does some shopping,” Castiel offered. He wasn’t sure what Meg meant by ‘house-elf’.

She put the dishes on the table, and paused to observe him. “Okay, so you’re not a morning person,” she deduced.

“Not really, no,” Castiel yawned. “Sorry.”

“Did I wake you?” she asked. “Would you rather go back to bed for another hour?”

“No, Meg, you made…” Castiel turned to the table and saw a steaming coffee, with milk and sugar placed right next to it. There were also plates with a mountain of toast, butter, jam, cheese, some apples, and now Meg was adding bacon, too. “… all of this?”

“Breakfast’s the most important meal of the day,” she said. “And I wasn’t sure what you liked, so… I tried to cover everything. There’s also some cereal.”

“I don’t think that’d be necessary.”

Meg grinned and sat. Last night, Castiel had tried to give her some space, but today she had placed everything so he didn’t have other choice than to sit next to her. Well, okay then. Two cups of coffee and some bacon in, Castiel was a little more awake and his natural good humor was starting to stretch its limbs too.

“Thank you, Meg,” he said. “This is really delicious.”

“Well, as it turned out, I can cook to save my life,” she joked. “Learned some tricks from Tessa.”

“You too are… very close,” Castiel pointed out. Not close enough for Meg to tell her about her job, apparently, but still.

“Best friends since high school,” Meg told him. “She was kind of the popular chick. She included me in her clique and took me under her wing when I was a freshman. I thought that it was really cool, until I found out she actually did it because she had a crush on my brother.”

“And she ended up marrying him,” Castiel pointed.

“And we’re still best friends!” Meg added. “Funny how those things work out.”

Castiel laughed and he almost missed the shadow that crossed Meg’s face. But then she was once again smiling, and Castiel figured he must have imagined it.

“So,” she cleared her throat. “What do you usually do on Saturdays?”

“I, uh… well, not much,” Castiel stuttered. He was realizing he had a beautiful girl in his apartment that was going to stay there all weekend long. “I… work.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly, Cas,” she said. “What else?”

Castiel needed a moment to process she had intuitively called him by the nickname only his family and friends (well, Hannah and Hael) used. Then he registered the question.

“I go running sometimes,” he said. “There’s this place in the park where you can sit and play chess… do you play?”

“Only wizard’s chess,” Meg joked. Castiel frowned. He was certain she was making a reference to something, but it completely flew over his head. “Harry Potter?” she pressed.

“I haven’t watched those movies,” he confessed. It was like he had slapped Meg in the face, because her eyes got wide, and she opened her mouth. She looked offended through and through.

“You haven’t…? Okay,” she breathed deeply. “I think I need to introduce you to completely different kind of marathon. Do you have Netflix?”

 

* * *

 

If somebody had asked Meg, she would’ve said that spending the day lazing around in the couch wasn’t always her first choice when it came to her favorite weekend activities, but to do just that every once in a while was good for her mental health.

And good for Castiel’s mental health too, apparently, because he was fidgety and nervous all through the first movie, like the idea of doing nothing for so long made him uncomfortable. But then they got to Chamber of Secrets and Meg heard him quietly giggling to himself. When she threw him an inquiring look, he pointed at the screen and mouthed “house-elf”. He looked so proud of himself for having got the reference.

“Oh, my God,” he muttered during the dragon chase in the fourth movie. He was sitting at the edge of the couch and biting his nails during the cemetery confrontation.

“You’ve really never seen thing anything like this before?” Meg asked when the movie was done. “Never?”

“Well, we grew up very sheltered,” he admitted. “I never felt I was missing anything. Obviously I was wrong. Should we watch the next movie?”

Meg suddenly remembered there was nothing but death and despair from that point onwards, so she suggested they order a pizza and made a list of all the things Castiel needed to catch up with.

“I can guide you through it,” Meg said. “You know, I’ll be like… your Yoda.”

Castiel blinked, and then shook his head, like apologizing.

“Okay, so that goes at the top of the list,” she decided.

They finished quite late. By the time there was only one slice of pizza left and the list of everything Castiel just needed to watch was two pages long (on both sides, in Meg’s tiny handwriting), she was yawning uncontrollably.

“You’re not a night person,” Castiel observed. They were sitting by the kitchen counter, and the fact they had turned off all the other lights in the apartment was telling Meg’s system it was time to go to bed.

“Nope,” Meg muttered and rubbed her eyes. “It’s okay. I can stay a little longer. Now… musicals…”

Castiel delicately covered Meg’s hand with his and stopped her from keep on writing. “Thank you, Meg,” he said. “Just go to sleep.”

Meg tried to protest, but Castiel took the pen away. Then slowly, he leaned down and put his burning lips against Meg’s palm. Meg watched his bright blue eyes, all timid and wide, like he was asking her if that had been okay. He smiled, like he found the way Meg’s breath had hitched very amusing. He put a hand on her cheek and moved for a kiss.

It was nothing like the night before. His mouth was firm and his tongue demanding. Meg had to put her arms around his neck to avoid falling from her stool. Castiel tangled his fingers in her hair and she got goosebumps all over. His touch was electrifying.

Then he broke away. “Good night, Meg,” he breathed. Then he turned around and disappeared inside his room.

Oh, the cocky… Very well. Two could play that game.

Meg put the remaining pizza in the fridge, went to her room and waited a couple of minutes. Then, as silently as she could, she crossed the darkened living room and tiptoed inside Castiel’s room. As she expected, he was already in bed, his dark silhouette breathing heavily under the covers. As softly as she could, she crawled right beside him and put an arm around his waist. Castiel moved a little.

“Meg?” he whispered. “What are you…?”

“I got a little lonely,” Meg replied.

She got even closer, so all of her curves were against his back, and very delicately left a peck in his ear. Castiel shuddered, and Meg smiled, satisfied. She continued leaving ghost kisses in the back of his head and between his shoulder blades, enjoying the way he wriggled and sighed. She lowered her hand and palmed his erection through his boxers.

“Not so funny now, huh? You teasing bastard,” she mocked him.

“I assure you… I had no intentions to tease you,” he gasped, and turned around. “But if I’ve made you a fraction of how uncomfortable you’ve made me, I’ll be more than happy to make amends for it if you do the same.”

Meg wasn’t sure what that implied, but it sounded interesting.

“Deal.”

Castiel kissed her again. He tasted like mint and toothpaste. Meg had a second to adjust to it before his hand found his way under her shirt and he started circling her nipple with his thumb. A small moan escaped her lips, and she felt Castiel smiling against her neck. That couldn’t be. She was getting beaten here. She tried to touch him, but he delicately stopped her.

“One thing at a time,” he muttered.

Meg closed her eyes and relaxed under his touch. She still had no idea what he was up to until his breath tickled her around the navel what he very slowly got rid of her panties. She understood only when he gave a tentative lick around her clit.

“Cas!” Meg screamed. He froze.

“Is this alright?” he asked. He sounded concerned, although Meg couldn’t see his expression in the dark. “Would you rather me do something different?”

Meg chuckled to herself. He was in complete control here, for the simple fact she had no idea what to expect anymore. But she found she didn’t care. It was a like an epiphany. She grabbed Castiel by the hair and not delicately at all, shoved his face between her legs while she threatened him:

“If you stop again, you’re not getting any reciprocity from me.”


	6. Chapter 6

There was a tickle in Meg’s nose. She tried shooing it away, but it returned, more insistent.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Ruby whispered in her ear. “It’s gym day.”

Meg groaned and tried to cover her head with the sheets, but Ruby snatched them away. She continued stroking Meg’s nose with the feather until the urge to sneeze was stronger than her, and Meg jumped out of the bed.

“Ruby!”

“Hey, you told me to go to any means necessary to wake your fat ass up,” Ruby answered, shrugging innocently. She was already wearing a tank top and her favorite pair of shorts. “Come on. You need to stay in shape if you still want your sugar daddy to love you.”

“He’s not my sugar daddy,” Meg protested weakly, scratching her nose.

She had been asking Ruby to stop calling Castiel that, but just like when she asked her to do the dishes, Ruby seemed to have selective hearing. But she was definitely listening when Meg had asked her to be her training buddy. In retrospect, that should’ve been a warning.

With every nerve in her body screaming at her it was criminal to be awake so early in the morning, Meg got dressed, gulped down a cup of tea and dragged her feet miserably all the way to the gym. She was not fully awake until she was half-heartedly pedaling in the stationary bike.

“Come on, you call that exercising?” Ruby yelled at her, and Meg considered telling her she was a hair’s breadth and a whistle away of becoming Mrs. Rosen, her old P. E. teacher.

“I hate you,” she said instead, speeding up a little.

“You’ll love me when you have a thigh gap.”

“I don’t want a thigh gap,” Meg complained. “I just want to keep up with Cas without dying.”

She still remembered when she had suggested they go running together. Castiel had promptly bolted away, and Meg had remained stunned from the sonic wave he left in his wake. Then he had returned and asked very concerned if maybe Meg would like him to go a little slower.

Ruby offered her a sympathetic smile. “Still going for the getting him off mentally angle?”

“It’s not like I have much more to work with,” Meg admitted.

They had fooled around plenty and had some really heated making out sessions, yes. There had been a lot of mouths and hands involved, and Meg had adopted the habit of stepping into the shower with him. But she already had two uncashed checks safely locked in her nightstand, and they still hadn’t gone all the way. Not because Meg hadn’t tried, mind you. But every time she hinted she might be ready, Castiel suddenly remembered it was dinner time or that they hadn’t finished watching this or that movie.

“Maybe you need to be blunter,” Ruby said later, when they were in the showers. “Do some dirty talking… ” she dropped her voice to a suggestive whisper. “… I’m so ready for you, baby…”

“I’m not sure the tricks of the trade are gonna do,” Meg protested, ignoring the soft, pretend moans her roommate was now letting out. “I’m not going to fake it, Ruby.”

“Like they can tell the difference,” Ruby snickered, turning off the water.

They picked their bags from their locker, and Meg cringed when she saw her phone: she had five missed calls from Tessa.

“Am I late again?” she asked.

Ruby checked the clock on the wall. “You should be fine.”

Meg hit the recall button. “Tessa, hi,” she said when her sister-in-law picked up. “I’m going to make it, okay? You don’t have to…” she stopped. Tessa had said the words loud and clear, but Meg still needed a few seconds to process them. “What?”

 

* * *

 

Finding a taxi in New York City was, on the best of days, a task that required an amount of patience that Meg had never had to begin with. Finding a cab on a Wednesday morning, when she’d just been informed her brother was in the hospital, was torture.

More than once Meg was about to succumb and call Castiel to ask him if Dean was free, but just when she was starting to consider the idea in all seriousness, a small miracle happened: an old lady got off one with her grocery bags just half a block away. Meg sprinted towards the car and closed the door, practically in the face of another girl who had the same idea. Those gym sessions were finally paying off.

The driver was one of those dudes that saw themselves as somewhat less muscular version of Vin Disel in The Fast and The Furious, and normally Meg was wary of them and spent the whole trip praying the didn’t crash against something. Today, she was thankful.

The nurse in the reception arched an eyebrow indifferently; probably pretty used to seeing hysterical relatives in gym clothes. Meg climbed the stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator, and found Tessa in the waiting room. Meg shuddered: Tessa had her shoulders slumped and was hiding her face in her hands. When she called her, Tessa looked up at her with puffy eyes. She stood up and let Meg embrace her before bursting into tears.

“They say is going to be okay,” she sobbed.

Meg’s heart, which had been beating on her throat the whole way, returned to her chest as she helped Tessa sit down again. “What happened?”

“The meds,” explained Tessa. “They had some sort of secondary effect. They slowed down his heart. He said he was dizzy, he couldn’t breathe…”

“Okay,” Meg rubbed Tessa’s shoulder to try and calm her. “It’s okay. They’re just gonna switch him to another treatment now, no reason to panic…”

“Meg,” Tessa took a deep breath. “This was… this was an experimental program.”

Again, Meg had trouble to process what Tessa was saying. It sounded a lot like she was saying her sick brother had agreed to take a dangerous and yet untested drug. It sounded a lot like she was saying all of this was a Hail Mary and there was really nothing they could do.

“Why would you do that?” she asked. By Tessa’s pained expression, she realized it was the wrong thing to say. Before she could take it back, a doctor walked up to them.

“Tom Masters’ family?” she asked. They both stood up, holding hands almost without realizing they were doing it. “He’s awake now, if you want to talk to him.”

Meg didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t think she had the strength for it. But she went into the room with Tessa anyway.

“Hey, my two best gals,” Tom smiled when he saw them. He was covered in cables and tubes, he looked pale and there were dark violet circles under his eyes, but he still smiled. Okay. No serious talk, then.

“You look like shit,” Meg declared, as Tessa sat in the chair next to the bed and held his hand.

“Right back at you,” Tom stuck out his tongue in her direction. “What’s with the yoga pants? Hoping to seduce a rich doctor?”

“How would that opening line even go?” Meg squinted. “’Hi, my brother has cancer. DTF?’”

“Stop it, you two,” Tessa scolded them, but when she covered her mouth with her free hand to suffocate the giggles, Meg knew they’d won. The situation didn’t seem so dire anymore. They could deal with this.

“Can I ask you something?” Meg made her tone as calmed and not angry as possible. “When exactly were you planning to tell me you were taking some dangerous untested drug?”

“Ah, well,” Tom shrugged, which was an impressive feat considering he could barely move from all the cables and cannulas around him. “They were giving them for free.”

“Tom, you know what mum used to say about free samples,” Meg rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tom sighed. “I guess that second mortgage doesn’t look like such a crazy idea now, huh, baby?”

“Tom…” Tessa started. Meg knew what she was about to say: that he didn’t need to worry about it right now, that they could deal with it later, that the business would somehow stay afloat. But it was painful to hear her lie so blatantly.

“I’ll help you out, guys,” she declared. “You know I always will.”

“Meg, you work for me,” Tessa pointed out. “Where are you planning to take this money from?”

“I still have some left from my college fund,” Meg lied. She was better at it than Tessa. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, Tess. We’ll be fine,” Tom added. “Hey, can you bring me some water, please?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back,” Tessa leaned over to kiss him in the cheek and then left the room.

Meg, sensing there was a storm coming, took her place in the chair. Tom’s smirk was completely gone now.

“Cut the bullshit, kiddo,” he said. “Your college fund has long been emptied, and we both know that.”

“How can you be sure?” Meg asked, hoping to derail the conversation.

“Because I set it up,” Tom pointed out bitterly. “I know exactly how much there was in there. You aren’t the only one who can do numbers in this room.”

Meg bit her tongue and looked away. Yes, Tom had worked hard for every cent in that stupid fund so she wouldn’t end up buried in crippling debt like he had been. Which was exactly the reason Meg had dropped out and insisted on giving him the money when he was first diagnosed. She owed him so much, and it infuriated her that he wouldn’t just accept it when she tried to pay him back.

“Tessa says you’re also taking double shifts in the business,” Tom continued. “But that you go completely MIA on weekends. So, what gives? And don’t even attempt to lie.”

“Okay,” Meg looked over her shoulder to make sure Tessa wasn’t coming, and took a deep breath. “I have… a weekend job.”

She waited for Tom to say something, but her brother simply raised an eyebrow and waited for her to go on. Meg was a second away from spilling out the beans: what she’d been doing those last few months, how she’d met Castiel and the agreement they had, and assure him everything was fine now, that she trusted this guy.

But she didn’t know how Tom would take it, and she just couldn’t drop that bomb on him.

“I… I can’t tell you much about it.”

“Why?” Tom asked. “Is it dangerous?”

“Not really.”

“Is it illegal?”

Meg reflected on it for a second. “I’m not certain about the details,” she confessed.

“Meg!” Tom started sitting up, but she put a hand on his chest.

“Listen, it’s nothing bad,” she assured him. “I just… do some things for a business guy. He pays me under the table because I’m not supposed to be employed there. I can’t tell you his name or the name of the company he works for. But trust me; it’s… it’s okay.”

All of which was technically truth. Tom was frowning, unconvinced.

“What kind of things do you do?”

Meg considered a little lying at this point was due. “Math stuff, mostly. I’m also like… an assistant of sorts.”

“Huh,” Tom said, and to Meg’s relief, his expression relaxed. “Like a Pepper Potts.”

“Exactly, yes,” she nodded. Well, Pepper Potts had eventually slept with Iron Man. That was more than she could say for herself.

“Here we go,” Tessa said, returning with a glass of water. “Sorry, there was a long queue.”

“It’s fine,” Tom said, and recovered his usual smile. “It’s all good.”

Meg wanted to believe she was telling it to her as well.

 

* * *

 

“So how was your week?” Dean asked.

Meg didn’t hear the question at first because she practically dozing off with her head pressed against the window.

“Mmm?” she muttered. “What?”

“That bad, huh?” the driver giggled.

“I’m sorry,” Meg yawned. “I had to cover for my sister-in-law at work. She was taking care of my brother in the hospital.”

Meg froze. Was that too much personal information?

“That sucks,” Dean commented. “He okay?”

Meg didn’t know how to even begin answering that question, so she didn’t.

“Well, I hope he gets better,” Dean offered. “You know, I go out of my mind when my brother or my son gets a freaking cold. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you.”

“You have a kid?” Meg asked. Instinctively, she looked for a wedding ring in Dean’s hand, but there wasn’t one.

“Ben. Ten years old. Give him a bat and he can hit whatever you throw at him,” he commented. There was such pride in his voice Meg couldn’t help but to smile. “He’s not mine, genetically speaking. But I’ve been around for so long he might as well be. You know how those things are.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, and suppressed another yawn. Dean seemed to pity her.

“Oh, boss told me to tell you he’ll be home late,” he informed her. “Some sort of meeting he couldn’t miss. Said you could order whatever you wanted if you were hungry.”

Meg wasn’t hungry when she arrived to the apartment. Or maybe she was just so tired she had lost the ability to feel hunger. She said goodbye to Dean and went straight to Cas’ bed. After the first night she had spent there, she hadn’t slept in the guest room again, although some of her things were still there: her toothbrush, for example, or the ugly shirts she used as pajamas. So maybe she should have made that her first stop, but she was so desperate to lay her head down just for a little while…

Cas’ room seemed odd somehow, and Meg was not awake enough to realize it was because he wasn’t there. She just found it strangely big and cold, even though it was a warm late July night. And… it didn’t smell right. The scents she associated with that place (Cas’ shaving cream, for example, or Cas’ cologne, the one she was so used to inhaling every night with her nose against the back of his head), they were all gone.

A part of her mind pointed out that maybe she wasn’t looking for them in the right place. She opened Cas’ closet, and contemplated all the shirts hanging orderly and impeccably in there. She grabbed a white one and breathed in. Oh, yes, there it was. Now the room was more familiar and welcoming, and Meg fell on the bed with a happy sigh. Castiel had one of those featherbed mattresses that felt like she was sinking into something glorious, and Meg couldn’t understand how he found it in him to get up every morning to go to work.

Or how was she going to get up. She’d just close her eyes for fifteen minutes, she told herself. Just fifteen minutes and then she’d go hang the shirt in its place (that had been a stupid thing to do, but she still held it close to her face as she closed her eyes). Maybe she’d order some pasta. Yes, pasta sounded good…

She sat up with a jolt. The clock on the nightstand informed her she had slept for two hours, and at first she didn’t know what woke her up. But then she heard some steps, and when she looked back up, Castiel was standing next to the bed, looking at her with eyes wide opened, like he was surprised to find her there.

“Hey,” she smiled, groggily. “You’re home.”

He didn’t say a word. He was squinting a little, the way she’d seen him do at the newspaper’s crossword puzzle. She followed his gaze and realized she was still clutching his shirt. Oh, God. Meg felt the blood flushing her cheeks, and her tongue felt heavy when she began searching for the words to apologize. But then Castiel knelt on the bed next to her, cupped her face and kissed her, slow and sweetly.

“I’m home,” he repeated. “Yes, I’m home.”

The next kiss wasn’t as careful. Castiel bit her lip and pinned her down. Meg found herself caged underneath his body, her breathing becoming shallower as Castiel left a trail of slight pecks across her neck. She held on to him, their clothes rustling as he got her t-shirt out of the way.

She had no idea what was going on. Castiel wasn’t usually this physical, he almost never initiated their contact, and not counting that first night they spent together at the hotel, he’d never been this aggressive. She discovered that she didn’t care. It was nice to give up control for once; it was nice not having to wonder if what she was doing was right and what Castiel expected from her. Right now he was being very clear and very pressing. Almost like a force of nature she couldn’t fight. Not that she wanted to.

Meg fought against his tie and his shirt as he undid the buttons of her jeans. Once he pulled them out completely, he sat back on his feet, and just stared at her for a second. Meg imagined she didn’t look very alluring, with her hair tangled and her skin flushed. She always made sure to put on some cute underwear when she was seeing Cas, but this week she had been so tired and distracted she had completely forgotten to do the laundry and so she was wearing a sports bra and some white panties.

But before she had time to get too self-conscious, Castiel grabbed her hand and pulled her close to climb on his lap. He hugged her tight, and Meg felt his hard-on pushing through his dress pants.

“So beautiful,” Castiel mumbled in her ear. “You’re mesmerizing… Meg…”

Meg hushed him and kissed him again, slowly rubbing herself against his cock. This was it. The night she’d been waiting for. Finally.

It scared how much she’d been craving this. And how frustrated she fell when Castiel’s grip became looser, like he was about to let go off her.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered, and Castiel froze. “Don’t you dare stop now. I want you, Cas. I really do…”

“Are you…?”

Meg claimed his mouth before he could even finish his stupid question. They fell back on the mattress, a mess of tongues and fingers and legs. Cas backed away and Meg pouted and was ready to protest again.

“Condoms, Meg,” he chuckled when he noticed. “We’re going to need those.”

“Right,” Meg agreed, and proceeded to take off her bra and toss it away. “I guess we will.”

Cas’ searching inside his nightstand drawer became increasingly frantic. Meg figured it was probably hard to focus with her softly nibbling his shoulder and her hand crawling inside his boxers, but she was determined not to let him back down. When he turned back to her, Meg had lost the little patience she had left. She took the condom from him and straddled his waist as soon as he was lying on his back.

She’d told Ruby she wasn’t going to use the tricks of the trade, but one or two here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? She put the condom in her mouth and inch by inch slid it along Cas’ length. She was rewarded by a throaty loud moan, and his fingers tangled in her hair.

“Meg…” he breathed, and it sounded like both a praising and a plea.

She lowered herself on his cock, closing her eyes, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the touch of his hands on her hips, accompanying her movements. She was gentle and teasing at first, but then Cas started caressing her nipples and her neck.

When his hand reached her face and he stroked her lips with his thumb, Meg decided slow, sweet love-making could be left for another day. She wanted him to fill her up, she wanted to impale herself on him, rough and carelessly, and have bruises on her thighs and hickeys on her collar bone the next morning.

Her rhythm became more erratic and desperate, her nails sinking on the sides of Castiel’s abdomen. Her vision was getting blurry and there were butterflies in her stomach because she was so close…

Castiel seemed to realize, because he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down for a sloppy kiss. “Come, Meg,” he whispered. “You’re so stunning when you’re coming. I want to see you…”

“Cas!” Meg screamed, and she wasn’t sure how much of a spectacle her orgasm was to him, because she buried her face in his neck and bit him hard while the waves of pleasure rippled through her. Castiel’s grasp around her neck became tighter and less than a second later, he arched his back, and emptied himself inside her.

Meg’s lungs were empty, like all the oxygen in her body had escaped from her in that one last shout. Castiel turned around and pulled out, and left a peck on her shoulder. Then he stood up. Meg closed her eyes, too dizzy and spent to do anything but stay there, limp and satisfied, her sweat cooling on her body.

Then she began to panic.

Had she been too bold? Too lewd? Oh, God. She never needed to think about that stuff with her old clients, because as soon as they were done she could walk out and never see them again. But what if Cas had found what she did distasteful? God, she’d even done the trick with the condom. Was that the reason he wasn’t there hugging her like he did after their make-out sessions? Had she been too vulgar? Had she shattered the fantasy?

Castiel returned. She didn’t hear his footsteps, but she felt the bed sinking when he sat next to her.

“Meg, you can’t sleep yet,” he told her softly. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

The question was so far away from the thoughts raging through her mind it forced Meg to open her eyes. He was extending a glass of water towards her, with a small frown and his blue eyes as bright as ever. And now that he mentioned it, yes, she was a bit thirsty.

She took the glass and took a couple of small sips under his attentive stare. Then she began drinking faster, and before she could stop herself, she had gulped down the water to the last drop.

“Do you want another?” Cas offered. He seemed amused.

“No,” Meg said, and her voice came out hoarse and strangled. She cleared her throat and tried again. “No. I want you to come here and fucking cuddle with me.”

Well, she was definitely off her game of the nice girlfriend that night. Castiel simply smirked, though. He turned off the lights and he moved the covers so the both of them could snuggle underneath them.

That was much better. Meg sighed and concentrated on the warmth of his skin against hers. But she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of restlessness, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she asked.

“So… how was that to you?” she asked. Was she really asking for a review? Well, she was. It was her job, after all. Castiel’s lips ghosted over temple.

“It was… intense,” he admitted. “But it was… it was wonderful, Meg. There are no words…”

Okay, now he was divagating. Meg shut him up with a kiss. She was finding that technique very useful.

“And you?” Castiel asked, in return. “What I did, was that… correct?”

“Very much so,” Meg giggled.

She meant to ask him why did it matter anyway, but her eyelids felt heavy, and Castiel’s calm breathing and his heartbeat lulled her into the sleep she had been fighting off all week. Right there, in his arms, it felt like the world and all the worries it contained were very far away.


	7. Chapter 7

If Meg had to pinpoint the exact moment their relationship changed, she’d have to say it was the following day when she rolled over in bed and saw Castiel was already awake. “Good morning,” she said.

Castiel was all groggy and had his hair pointing in every direction. He put a hand on Meg’s cheek, smiled sweetly and muttered: “… Morning.”

They left the bed to make some coffee and then promptly returned to it. Meg knew, logically, that they’d had to get up at some other point, to eat or go to the bathroom, but she couldn’t remember doing that. All she recalled was having sex, napping, and talking all through that Saturday.

“You liked that?” Castiel seemed surprised when Meg told him she didn’t mind getting a few bruises.

“I like it when you don’t treat me like I’m going to break, so yes, I don’t mind if you’re a bit rough,” she specified. “And you like it that way, too.”

Castiel blushed. “I… I haven’t done that in a while,” he confessed. “My last partner… she didn’t enjoy it.”

Meg suddenly understood why Cas had been treading so lightly around her. He had wanted to take control too, but he wasn’t sure how to ask. He had been so caught up in that relationship that he hadn’t allowed himself to…

“Wait, what you mean by ‘ _that’_?” she asked. “Are we talking sex torture dungeon?”

Castiel giggled. “I’ve been to one of those. Once. I was curious,” he confessed. “It turned out to be a little… too intense for me.”

“Oh,” Meg said. “Okay.”

Castiel seem to notice she needed a minute to readjust her whole opinion of him, so he didn’t say a word for a while.

“Have you ever done anything of the sort?” he asked.

“Some of the guys I’ve worked with liked to tie me up,” Meg said, careful to phrase it as discreetly as possible. “I found it kinda boring. Like they just wanted me to lay there and think of England.”

He nodded. “Yes, there are a lot of misconceptions about what those practices entail.”

“So… what else have you done?” Meg asked, genuinely interested. “What else do you like? Tell me.”

But apparently Castiel was done sharing, because he clammed up and avoided her gaze. Meg wasn’t willing to let it go though, not now when she finally felt that they were making some progress.

“Shall we play _‘never have I ever’_?”

During the next few hours, Meg found out there weren’t many things they hadn’t both done: Food play (which was sticky and non-practical), participate in a threesome (which they both agreed was a little awkward and overrated), have sex with a member of the same sex (Meg deemed it “nice, but not my thing”, while Castiel declared himself openly bisexual).

“What is this? Aren’t you supposed to be a naïve, religious boy?” Meg asked after Castiel narrated a very awkward experience involving a joint and a dildo. “When did you do all of these things?

“College,” Castiel shrugged. “It was the first time I was free of my family’s very strict control, so I did a lot of experimenting back then.”

“Let me get this straight,” Meg said. “You went to college, and instead of I don’t know, trying to watch _The Wizard of Oz_ in sync with _Dark Side of the Moon_ , you figured _‘I might as well go and have a threesome_ ’?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“No, no,” Meg laughed, and kissed him. “I like where your priorities lie.”

Their ‘never have I ever’s’ escalated out of the sex area and went into the realm of trivia. Neither of them had ever had a dog (Meg was an unapologetic cat person). Castiel had two brothers, a sister, and a myriad of cousins. Meg like reading tabloids, no matter how stupid that sounded.

On Sunday morning, they had a quickie on the couch, and then Castiel asked a question that was a bit too intimate for Meg.

“Never have I ever… worked for an escort agency,” he said.

Meg bit the inside of her cheek and didn’t answer. Castiel immediately backed down from it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“How about we watch a movie and pretend you didn’t ask?” Meg suggested.

So they did just that, but the question bothered her enough to keep her from focusing on the plot. Not because she thought Castiel had been wrong to ask, but because she wanted to tell him the truth. She didn’t need Castiel’s approval or forgiveness, obviously, because she wasn’t doing anything wrong. But she still would like him to understand her motives. Like it somehow would absolve her from what she had done and what she was doing. Like she wanted to apologize to him for being this part-time paid girlfriend instead of the real thing.

Abbadon would have told her those were very dangerous thoughts. But she couldn’t shake them off, so the following week, after they had dinner and cuddled up on the couch, she let it out:

“I needed the money.”

Castiel paused the movie and tilted his head, disconcerted. Meg realized he had considered that conversation was over.

“That’s the reason I started working for Abaddon,” she clarified. “I needed the money.”

“Abaddon?” he repeated, and he looked even more lost than he was before.

“Abaddon the Destroyer. That’s what we call Josie,” Meg explained. “Not to her face, though.”

“Ah,” Castiel reflected on it for a moment, and then nodded. “It suits her. Shall we…?” he added, raising the remote.

“Don’t you want to know the answer?” Meg asked. “Don’t you want to know the reason I’m here?”

“I don’t, if it makes you uncomfortable,” Castiel assured her. “I overstepped my boundaries. I apologize."

Meg stayed silent. “Isn’t it weird, though?” she asked. “That we can tell each other all about our sexual history and the stupid little details of our lives, but we can’t share… that sort of personal information?”

“I never said we _couldn’t_ ,” Castiel pointed. “I just thought you preferred not to.”

Meg tapped her fingers against the armrest. She realized Castiel was giving her one last chance to back down, to shut her mouth and keep their relationship the way it was now. But she also didn’t like to half-ass things. So might as well share everything.

“I want to,” she concluded.

Castiel turned off the TV, and moved on the couch so he was sitting facing her. His eyes pierced through her.

So Meg told him. She told him how she and Tom had never met their dad – hell, they weren’t even sure they had the same dad – and how her mom was in a constant cycle of crawling inside a bottle and then sobering up enough to prevent Social Services from taking them away. How Tom, seven years older than her, made sure she stayed in school and always had food on the table. How when their mom finally passed away from cirrhosis, he took the meager money she left them and invested it in the business of his then-fiancée Tessa, and how every dime of all his hard work went into putting her through college….

“You went to college?” Castiel interrupted her.

“Berkeley. For about three years,” Meg replied. “I was majoring in Business Administration. I wanted to help Tom and Tessa with the catering service.”

“Meg… that’s really impressive,” Castiel said. “That’s… yeah. So, what happened?”

Meg looked for the best way to put it. “Well, my tuition, his student loans, and the opening of the catering ate away most of Tom’s savings in the end,” she explained. “He said it didn’t matter, that he’d recover them with time, but, well… turns out being an uninsured cancer patient isn’t exactly good for your wallet.”

That’d come out way too aggressive. She had tried to make it sound light, but by Castiel’s horrified expression, she realized she’d messed up big time.

“Oh, my God,” he said. “Meg, I’m so sorry…”

“No, don’t,” Meg begged him. “Don’t do that. Tom never let anyone pity him, so I’m not going to let you, either.”

Castiel closed his mouth, cleared his throat, and a second later, he had his expression of mild interest back. Meg pondered if that was a product of all his years having to deal with a family that sounded a bit like freaking Big Brother.

“That’s why you needed the money,” he deduced.

“There wasn’t much left of my fund,” Meg admitted. “But I insisted they take all of it, and I dropped out to help Tessa keep the business afloat. Tom wasn’t happy about it. I promised him I would go back and get my degree as soon as he was better. That… that would have been this year.”

She bit her lips and added nothing more. Castiel understood.

“He didn’t get better.”

“No, he got better,” Meg replied. “But now he got bad again. No need to be sad about it.”

She still needed to make a pause to wipe away a tear, and Castiel was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t seen that.

“In any case… Ruby, my roommate… she’s a pain in the ass, but she’s awesome,” Meg continued. “She lets me pay the rent late when I have to. She studies at Columbia and works for Abaddon to afford it. She’s the one who recommended that job when I told her I might try to go back to school. I was weary at first, but… Josie takes care of us.”

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “She’s very fierce in that aspect.”

Meg would’ve killed to know exactly what Abaddon told him to make his eye wide with fear every time she was mentioned.

“So there,” Meg concluded. “That’s my life story.”

Meg pretended the patterns in Castiel’s carpet were very interesting for several seconds until she felt his fingers intertwining with hers.

“It’s a very noble thing you’re doing,” he said. “I understand.”

Meg was tempted to ask what he meant, but then he kissed her, and she completely forgot about it.

Later that afternoon, they were making some ramen for lunch (because they had completely lost the track of time and they decided it wasn’t worth getting dressed to receive the delivery boy), when it was Meg’s turn to ask an uncomfortable question.

“Tell me the truth: why me?”

Castiel was putting the teapot over the stove and didn’t even glance in her direction when he replied: “What do you mean?”

“Well, look at me,” Meg insisted. She was wearing nothing but her panties and one of Castiel’s shirts, and frankly, it was a little offensive he wasn’t ogling at her in those conditions. “I’m not the sexiest girl they had in the agency. My breast are too small, I have practically no hips… I like my butt, though. I think it’s a good butt.”

That got him to smile and pay attention. “Let me see,” he said, as leaned to check her out. “Yes. It is indeed a very nice butt.”

“You can grab it if you like,” Meg joked.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Castiel playfully place a hand over her ass and pulled her close. He left a peck on her cheek and then stayed quiet until the teapot whistled.

Meg wondered if she should repeat the question while Castiel poured the water over the bowls and offered her one. They took them to the table and he toyed with his chopsticks for a moment.

“I guess I owe you a life story,” he said. “Never have I ever hired someone for sexual services before. Not until the night I met you, anyway. And that was because I was feeling lonely and desperate and missing Rachel.”

“Rachel?” Meg repeated. “As in, the woman your brother married? That Rachel?”

“Yes, that Rachel,” he confirmed.

“Oh, boy,” Meg was already regretting having asked, but before she could stop him, Castiel continued:

“Our families worked together, so I knew Rachel since we were both very young,” he said. “Then they sent her away to study in a boarding school in London. That must have been when we were… ten, maybe eleven years old. I remembered her being rather short girl with pigtails and scrapped knees.”

“And then she came back and it was love at first sight,” Meg guessed.

“I wouldn’t say ‘at first sight’,” Castiel chuckled. “But yes, she had become a very beautiful and sophisticated woman, and I did fall head over heels for her in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“Wait, so that was the ‘last partner’ you mentioned?” Meg interrupted her. “The one who didn’t like… what you like?”

“Again, yes,” Castiel nodded. “I didn’t mind. I was willing to give up a lot of things for her. She knew I hated my job, but told me I should continue in my post since we would need the financial stability it provides for our children.”

“Woah, so we’re talking mother of your hypothetical children here?”

“I wanted six, she wanted two. We settled for three.”

Meg was surprised. She suspected this Rachel had been a pretty big deal, but that was way too serious. She knew Tom was going to propose to Tessa when he started talking about kids, and her brother hated kids.

“Anyway, as you can imagine, the night before her wedding I was in dire need of some relaxation,” Castiel confessed. “That’s why I called the agency. And then you showed up, and well… we had some chemistry going on, didn’t we?” he took Meg’s hand and delicately placed a soft kiss on her palm. “Afterwards, I figured I hadn’t treated myself in a long time, and I deserved it.”

“This is a very expensive treat,” Meg commented.

“I can afford it,” he shrugged.

Meg didn’t want to think about the implications of Cas “affording” her, so she changed the topic.

“So how’d you end as best man at your own wedding?” she asked. Castiel let out a bitter laugh.

“You know, that’s exactly what I was thinking all the way through the ceremony,” he said. “It should have been _me_ standing next to her at the altar.”

He took a mouthful of ramen and chewed it very slowly. Meg remained silent, waiting out on him to gather his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally. “I have no idea how it happened. All I know is, one day I came home, and Rachel announced she was leaving.” He pointed a finger at a spot in the middle of the room. “She was standing right there, with her bags ready,” he said. “She said it wasn’t working anymore, that I had no ambition and she didn’t want to spend her life with a spineless man like myself. And then she left. Six months later, she was engaged to Michael. Which I guess, makes sense. Michael has always been like my mother: assertive, high-reaching…”

“A complete dick,” Meg interrupted him. Castiel opened his mouth, maybe to defend him, but Meg was having none of that. “No, that was a total dick move. He knew this girl broke your heart, and he still forced you to sit through the wedding? What kind of brother does that? And her? Cas, you’re the nicest guy in the world. How could she walk out on you?”

Meg didn’t realize she was angry until she saw Castiel blinking perplexed at her.

“But she was right,” he said, in a quiet voice. “I am rather spineless.”

“No, you’re not,” she argued. “You’re…”

She hesitated. The word that came to her mind was “broken”, because that was the feeling she got when she looked at Castiel. His isolation, his lack of interests outside of a job he clearly disliked, his need to hide all the ways in which he enjoy his sexuality… it all spoke of a man who had been forced to keep his head low for far too long.

But she didn’t want to offend him. The truth was she had only known him for a few months, and she had no right to judge him like that.

“The fact that you don’t have the same priorities as them doesn’t mean you lack ambition,” she said, unsure as to whom she referred with that nebulous ‘them’.

“That’s one way to put it,” Castiel shrugged. “And in Michael’s defense, it wasn’t him who forced me to sit through the wedding. It was Mother who insisted it’d be scandalous for me not to show up.”

“She’s got you in a short leash, huh?”

Meg was having a lot of trouble that day to try to make jokes about things that shouldn’t be joked about. Castiel offered her a sad grin.

“I suppose she does,” he admitted. “Of course, it helps that she receives complete reports on all my daily activities.”

“How does she do that?” Meg asked. Then it hit her: the one person who knew all about Cas’ comings and goings, the person who did his shopping, the person Castiel had specifically instructed her not to talk to. “No! Dean?”

“He thinks I don’t know he spies for her,” Castiel said.

“Aren’t you being a little paranoid?” Meg suggested. Actually, she believed him: she had met Naomi Novak briefly, but she seemed like the kind of person who would pay someone to keep her informed about her children’s activities. Castiel shook his head.

“I know Mother’s M.O.”

“Well, that’s disturbing,” she said. “Do you think she knows about me?”

“I am certain she does,” Castiel stated. “Dean is very diligent.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t spy on you if you were nicer to him,” Meg said. “I mean, when was the last time you even asked him about his kid?”

Castiel frowned. “Dean has a child?”

“Yes,” Meg told him. “A ten-year-old stepson. And a genius younger brother who’s studying in Stanford. And a mother who apparently bakes the best pies in the world. Seriously, Cas, you ask him about his family and he won’t shut up about how wonderful they all are.”

“Huh,” Castiel put his chin on his hand, pensively. “Are you suggesting I should do some counter-spying?”

“No, I’m suggesting you act like a decent human being to the guy who drives your ass everywhere,” Meg clarified, pointing at him with her chopsticks. “You need to work on your people skills.”

 

* * *

 

There was alarm ringing somewhere, but Meg couldn’t be bothered to turn it off. She was too comfy and too warm, with her head resting on one of Cas’ arms and… no, wait, why was he moving away?

The alarm stopped ringing when Meg wasn’t entirely awake yet.

“Meg,” he muttered in her ear. “Meg, you have to wake up.”

“I don’t want to wake up,” Meg protested. “Your bed is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Cas laughed quietly. “You have to go home,” he said. “It’s not safe for you to ride in a taxi this late in the night.”

“Well, maybe I should just stay here, then,” Meg mumbled.

Later, she would claim she was too tired to grasp the meaning of her words, which was partially true. The other reason was she wasn’t sure leaving Cas alone after such a raw weekend of sex and charged confessions was a good idea.

Or maybe it was her who didn’t want to be alone.

There was a moment of silence, and then Castiel said: “Alright. But I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Meg blinked. She couldn’t quite believe that actually worked. “Okay.”

“And you should send word to your roommate,” Castiel said. “So she doesn’t worry.”

Meg got out of the bed for the exact amount of time it took her to look for her cellphone and text Ruby. By the time she replied, Meg was back with her head tucked in the inside of Castiel’s neck. She didn’t read Ruby’s exasperated “You’re just trying to skip gym day!” until the following morning.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, Mr. Novak!” Dean greeted him as he walked into the apartment. Then he stopped in his tracks when he realized there was somebody else also sitting in the table. “And Meg. Meg, why are you still here?”

“Woah, try to at least pretend to be happy to see me,” Meg teased him. She took a sip of her coffee while Castiel hid his grin behind the morning newspaper.

“No, I’m happy to see you,” Dean said. “I’m just… shocked.”

“Dean is worried having to drop you off will mess with our time schedule,” Castiel explained, turning the page. “He’s dedicated like that. Don’t take it personally.”

“Not at all,” Meg gulped down the last of his coffee and stood up. “Don’t worry, Dean. Now that is broad daylight, the taxis are somehow safer than they were last night.”

“They are,” Castiel protested, but Meg didn’t listen. She had just disappeared into the room and came back with her bag.

“I’ll see you on Friday,” she said, leaving a quick peck on Castiel’s cheek. “Goodbye, Dean!” she added cheerfully, on her way to the door.

“So now she’s staying over on weekdays,” Dean mumbled. “Okay.”

Castiel could practically see the little wheels inside of Dean’s skull turning, probably already redacting his report for Naomi, so he decided to interrupt him: “Have you had breakfast?”

“What?” Dean shook his head a little, like a startled dog. “Uh, no. I thought I’d get a pretzel after I drop you off at the office.”

“Well, that’s not healthy,” Castiel said. “Sit. We still have time.”

Dean threw him a sideways glance, like he considered Castiel had lost his mind. He sat down anyway and let Castiel pour him some coffee.

“So how is your child?” Castiel asked, nonchalantly, turning back to his newspaper.

“He’s… fine,” Dean answered, still staring at Cas worryingly and not touching his coffee.

“And your brother?” Castiel continued. “I’ve heard he starts his last semester in Stanford in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, he’s kinda nervous,” Dean replied, slowly. “I keep telling him he’ll do great… I’m sorry, boss, what’s gotten into you this morning?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting considerately and talking to me,” Dean pointed out. “It’s unlike you.”

Castiel had never realized it, but it was true: He tended to completely ignore Dean whenever he was in the room. It had been almost a year and a half since the driver started working for him, and Castiel had always seen him a sort of enemy to avoid at all cost, lest Mother’s grip become tighter.

But after talking to Meg, he’d learnt that Dean was actually an okay guy who was just trying to provide for his family. If he had to do it by spying on him, well, Castiel couldn’t really blame him.

That was too long an explanation, though, so he simply said: “Meg thinks I need to work on my people skills.”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Dean muttered, and then it hit him he’d said it out loud. “I mean… not that you… yeah. You have a really outstanding girl there, boss.”

“I know,” Castiel smirked.

“You should take her out sometime,” Dean continued, maybe encouraged by Castiel’s extraordinary good mood. “You know, show her off. That’s what I’d do with my girl if I wasn’t so damn broke.”

Castiel made a mental note to give Dean a raise.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel was a heavy sleeper, which was to say; sometimes Meg would wake up with his body sprawled all over hers and had no choice but to wait until he moved. That Saturday morning, Castiel had gone the extra mile and also wrapped his legs around her waist and used her shoulder blades as a pillow.

“Cas,” she protested, as she tried to literally get him off her back. “Cas, come on…”

Castiel mumbled something and held even tighter, his morning wood poking against her ass.

“Yeah, that’s not going to get you anything,” Meg chuckled in spite of everything. Slowly, she untangled herself from him and delicately pushed him away. Castiel rolled over and continued snoring underneath the blankets.

Meg shook her head and got up to take a shower. She swore, sometimes Cas was like a child, getting excited at the simplest things, like food he hadn’t tried or movies he hadn’t seen. He would smile shyly and ask the most obvious questions. Other times, he was… well, other times he would pin her down to the bed and fuck her until she was begging for release, like last night. Meg looked into the mirror, analyzing the bite mark in her ass and laughed to herself. Last night had been good.

She left the bathroom, drying her hair energetically with a towel, only to be greeted by the sound of the coffee maker once she headed for the kitchen. She frowned. Had Cas gotten out of bed? That’d be a first. Smiling to herself, she shook her hair like a wet dog and shouted:

“Good morn…!”

“Oh, my God!” someone screeched, and the jar of cookies crashed against the floor and shattered.

Meg stood on her spot, paralyzed. There was a teenage girl in the kitchen, with glass and crumbs lying at her feet. She was wearing a plaid skirt and white shirt, and staring at Meg with pure, unadulterated confusion in her big blue eyes.

“You’re naked!” the girl shouted and covered her eyes. “Why are you naked?”

Meg held the towel closer to her body, like that somehow would make her any less naked.

“Who are you?” she asked, on the edge of complete hysteria. Her panicking brain pointed out that the question was superficial: the girl had black hair and blue eyes; she had let herself in the apartment and was making breakfast like she was completely familiar with the place…

“Who are you?” the girl replied. She peaked through her fingers and cringed. “And seriously, why are you naked?”

“What’s going on?” Castiel’s grumpy voice came from behind them. He appeared in the kitchen, in nothing but his boxers, and Meg took a little consolation in the fact his dick was not making a guest appearance anymore. “Hael? What…?”

Hael’s eyes opened wide as the realization dawned on her, and Meg was pretty sure she had never seen so much horror in someone’s face before (probably because she couldn’t see her own face at the moment).

“Oh, my God!” Hael repeated and turned around. “Oh, my God, you got laid!”

Well, it wasn’t like Hael was wrong, but there was something in her tone that was just more than Meg could handle. “I’m going back into the bedroom,” she decided.

“Meg, wait…”

The last glimpse Meg caught before closing the door behind her and hyperventilating freely was of Cas, with the exact same expression of confusion and surprise she’d seen on Hael’s face…

Oh, God. Meg dressed swiftly, with every instinct in her body shouting at her that she needed to get the hell out before things turned any more awkward, if that was even possible.

Castiel walked back in when she was putting her shirt on and throwing all of her things inside her bag.

“Meg, I’m so sorry about all this,” he said. His face was red with shame and he was looking at anywhere except at Meg. “I didn’t know Hael was going to drop by…”

“You didn’t know she was coming?” Meg asked, not sure that helped anything at all. “What kind of…? You know what, never mind. That’s none of my business.”

“Meg?” Castiel finally realized what she was doing and put both of his hands on her shoulders when she tried to walk past him on her way to the door. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the hell out so you can explain my presence to your daughter?” Meg suggested.

“My what?” Castiel asked and then he covered his mouth with a hand. Meg was disconcerted when she realized he was suffocating his laughter. “No, Meg,” he tried to explain between chuckles. “Hael is my niece. She’s my sister Hannah’s daughter.”

“Hannah? The one your mom kicked out?”

“That Hannah, yes,” Castiel confirmed, nodding almost beatifically.

“But she looks so much like you…” Meg protested.

“That’s because Hannah and I are twins,” Castiel said. “I thought I mentioned that. Meg, do you really think I would share that story while keeping something so big from you?”

Well, when put like that, it had been a pretty ridiculous assumption.

“But I think you’re right,” he added, as he pulled out a pair of jeans from his closet. “A graceful exit is the best we can hope for right now.”

Hael was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in her hands when they returned. As soon as she heard them, she raised her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry I freaked you out. You took me by surprise.”

“That’s fine,” Meg smiled, politely. “I think we freaked each other out.”

“I’m going to walk Meg downstairs,” Cas said, as calmly as if none of this was extremely embarrassing. “You stay here until your mom arrives.”

“No, wait,” Hael stood up. “I want to know your girlfriend!”

Both Meg and Cas stopped in their tracks, and Castiel grimaced before he could avoid it.

“She’s your girlfriend, right?” Hael inquired, nervously. “Please, tell me she’s not some chick you picked up at a bar.”

“No!” Castiel said, a little too fast for it not to be suspicious. “Of course not!”

Meg was wondering how Cas would climb out from the hole he was digging himself into when, to top it all, a female version of him carrying a box of donuts walked in.

“Uncle Cas has a girlfriend he didn’t tell us about!” Hael accused him immediately.

“Your daughter drops in unannounced at other people’s places!” Castiel retaliated.

“He forgot we were coming!” Hael retorted.

The woman (who, Meg assumed, was Hannah) sighed deeply and rubbed her puffy eyes. “Still too early for this,” she complained.

 

* * *

 

It turned Hannah was as much a morning person as Castiel was, meaning not at all. The conversation during breakfast was mostly carried by Hael, who was like a ray of sunshine working overtime to compensate.

“How did you meet?” she asked. “How long you’ve been together? What do you do for a living? Where do you live?”

“Hael,” Hannah groaned, but it was obvious she was in no condition to stop her daughter. Not until she finished her cup of coffee, anyway.

“I’m sorry, mum, but this is exciting!” Hael said. She put her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands, grinning at Meg. “I want to know everything!”

By Cas’ face, Meg deduced he was not ready to enter the wonderful world of Lying to Everyone About Everything, which was a given when you were a call girl and/or a call girl client. So she decided to spare him the pain.

“We met at the Grand Hotel,” she said, and Castiel visibly shuddered.

“Maybe we shouldn’t…”

“No, come on, it’s a fun story,” Meg cut him off. “I work for my sister-in-law’s catering, and I do… well, about anything she needs. So I was waiting tables at Michael’s wedding and I spilled champagne on Cas.”

“No!” Hael laughed and looked at her mom, as if to confirm she wasn’t the only one listening to this. “That’s like right out of a romcom.”

“Isn’t it?” Meg laughed. “So I took him to the kitchen to clean up the stain, we flirted a little and I gave him my number. He called a couple of weeks later, and well… here we are.”

Castiel let out a relieved huff. “It is a fun story when you tell it like that,” he admitted.

“That is so cute,” Hael said. “Mum, are you seeing how cute they are?”

“Sure, honey,” Hannah yawned. “Super cute.”

“And where did you take her for your first date?” Hael continued to ask.

“We had a coffee…” Meg started.

“We went for dinner…” Castiel started at the same time. They eyed each other, slightly mortified, and then Castiel cleared his throat. “We had a coffee, and we were so entertained we ended up going for dinner.”

Meg offered a smirk she hoped was all innocent.

“Okay,” Hannah gulped down what was left of her coffee, and only then she was awake enough to properly greet Meg. “I’m sorry we crashed into your weekend,” she said, offering Meg her hand.

“That’s alright,” Meg smiled. “I should be going, though, I’m sure you have a lot of things to do…”

“Not at all!” Hael said. “We’re just going to buy furniture for my part of the apartment. Mom didn’t want me to live on the campus,” she added, elbowing her mother, who opened her mouth to protest. “So me and my friend are moving in together. We buy the furniture here, and they deliver it there free of charge. How great is that?”

“Sounds very cool,” Meg said. Actually, she didn’t care much for the furniture business, but Hael’s enthusiasm was contagious.

“It’s extremely cool,” Hael said. “You can come along if you want.”

There was a heavy silence in the table, as the three adults exchanged looks of concern.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s…” Hannah said.

“I really don’t mean to intrude in your family time,” Meg added.

“It’s probably going to be boring,” Castiel said.

“Well, if she can’t handle you at your most boring…” Hael shrugged, but Meg noticed the implicit threat in those words. She was testing Meg. She wanted to know if she was good enough for uncle.

And well, maybe she was paid to be there and maybe she didn’t need to prove herself to any teenaged girl; but all of the sudden, Meg wanted to take up the gauntlet.

“Okay, why not?” she said as nonchalantly as she could. She would’ve laughed at Castiel’s horrified expression, but that would’ve almost too cruel.

 

* * *

 

The apartment Hael was moving into wasn’t so big, so she just needed the essentials: a bed and a desk. And maybe a nightstand. If she had a nightstand, she needed a little lamp as well. But the little lamp had to match the curtains. And the curtains had to be the same color (or at least a complementary color) that the bedspread and the rug. Didn’t she mention she wanted a little rug for her bedroom? Oh, and a mirror. Yes, a mirror was an absolutely necessary item, uncle Cas. One with a pretty frame, at that.

“You know, one of these days, your uncle is going to get tired of spoiling you,” Hannah commented, shaking her head in the twelfth or thirteenth shop they visited in search for the perfect mirror. “And then you’re going to be in trouble, because like hell I’ll spoil you.”

“Don’t worry, sister,” Castiel smiled. “She’ll always be my little spoiled brat.”

“Aw, thanks uncle… hey!” Hael gasped offended and softly punched her uncle in the arm.

Meg couldn’t hold back the laughter. It was so obvious Castiel loved that girl as much as if she was actually his daughter that it hurt. She had never seen him smile so wide. Normally, when he spoke about his family, he did so in a defeated, tired tone, but with Hannah and Hael he kept smiling and joking. He was so at ease. Like he completely belonged with those people.

But he didn’t ignore Meg, either. He always walked next to her, even when Hannah and Hael walked ahead (which was most of the time, since Hael seemed unable to walk at a normal pace). He held her hand when they were sitting waiting for Hael to make her decision about bedspreads. He glanced at her when he thought Meg couldn’t see him and she even caught him smiling like a fool in her direction a couple of times.

She had considered teasing about how he needed to improve his lies, but if this was all make-believe for his sister and his niece, he was actually doing a very convincing job. So she went along with the casual touches and even went the extra mile and called him “sweetie” once. She almost choked on the word, and decided that if she needed to call Castiel something, it definitely wouldn’t be anything food-related. It just didn’t fit.

After they hit all the stores Hael had listed, they took a walk across Central Park, because apparently that was Hael’s favorite spot in the city. Cas put an arm around Meg’s waist while he showed them around the Chess and Checkers House. Most of the players gathered around were older men, and some even nodded at Castiel as he passed by, as if they acknowledged his presence but couldn’t be distracted from their games.

“Never play with him,” Hannah told Meg. “He cheats.”

“I do not!” Castiel exclaimed, offended.

“He does so,” a black man sitting in front of a chess board intervened.

“Shamelessly,” added a second man with a thick beard and a cap. He moved one of the black pieces on the board.

“Hello, Rufus, Bobby,” Castiel greeted them happily. Both men groaned at him, and Meg took it that was their usual reception.

“Taking your girls out for a walk?” Rufus asked, and then he cast a glance at Meg. “That one’s new.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s the one that goes jogging with him,” Bobby pointed out.

“Her name’s Meg,” Hael clarified swiftly. “She’s uncle Cas’ girlfriend.”

Both Rufus and Bobby looked up, attentively.

“Well, about damn time you got some, son,” Bobby commented. Castiel seemed even more offended as Hannah and Hael burst out giggling uncontrollably.

“You play?” Rufus asked Meg, pointing at the board.

“I’m not an expert,” Meg shrugged.

“She only plays wizard chess,” Castiel added. Bobby and Rufus frowned in confusion, but Hael was dumbstruck and Hannah raised an eyebrow.

“Did you just… make a Harry Potter reference?” Hael asked.

“Yes,” Castiel pulled the collar of his shirt nervously. “I have been familiarizing myself with the movies lately.”

“Since when?” Hannah wanted to know.

Meg raised her hand guiltily. “I may or may not have convinced him to have a marathon with me,” she confessed.

Mother and daughter both stayed in stunned silent for a moment, with expressions of surprise so identical it was hilarious. Meg heard Rufus whisper: “What the hell is wizard chess?” while Bobby shrugged indifferently and moved another piece.

“Cas?” Hannah said, finally.

“Yes?”

“Marry this girl,” Hannah concluded, and then lassoed Meg’s arm like they’ve been best friends their whole lives. “So do you want fish for lunch? I know a place where they make a spectacular salmon.”

“Oh, is it that little place in Amsterdam Avenue?” Meg asked. “I love it there!”

Hannah seemed extremely pleased, and when Meg turned to look over her shoulder, Hael winked at her, obviously having the time of her life. Castiel was smirking.

“So what are you studying, Hael?” Meg asked, once they were in the restaurant Hannah had suggested. She was right: the salmon was so amazing she was tempted to ask for the recipe to see if Tessa could replicate it.

“I’m majoring in Earth Sciences,” Hael said, proudly. “With a minor in Environmental Studies.”

“She has a green thumb,” Hannah pointed out. “Have you ever heard of someone successfully growing camellias in the middle of the winter in a flowerpot on a balcony in Jersey? She did.”

“Camellias do grow in that weather,” Hael commented, rolling her eyes at her mother. “It’s nothing impressive.”

“It’s more impressive than what I could do,” Castiel admitted. “Once they gave me a bonsai for my birthday. It died like two weeks later.”

“That’s because you didn’t put it where it could get sunlight,” Hael complained. “I’m not even sure you remembered to water it.”

“That poor mini-tree was neglected to death,” Hannah added, waving her fist and pretending to be tearing up.

“Okay, so I guess I’m only buying you rubber plants then,” Meg joked.

Hael choked on her salad from laughing so hard.

“I want a picture of you two!” she demanded when they arrived at Penn.

“Honey, don’t you think you’ve hassled poor Meg enough for one day?” Hannah asked. “We don’t want to chase her away. I actually like her.”

“It’s no hassle at all,” Meg assured them, and pulled Castiel closer.

“Oh,” he said, completely taken aback by how quickly Meg was up for that. “Okay.”

“Say cheese!” Hael asked, and the camera flash from her phone blinded them for a second. “That’s so cute, look!”

“Thanks,” Castiel said, after Hael showed them the picture. “Uh… I don’t think we have other pictures of us together.”

Both Hannah and Hael seemed horrified by that idea, but they weren’t able to protest about it because their train was announced on the speakers right then.

“I’ll e-mail it to you,” said Hael, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you for all the furniture. You’re the best uncle ever. And Meg,” she turned to her, and to her surprise, Meg got a hug too. Only hers included a whispered threat in her ear: “You break his heart, I break your legs.”

“You got it,” Meg said, in all seriousness. She had no doubt in her mind the pixie little girl was capable of that and so much more.

They boarded and waved at them from the windows. Meg made sure to hold Cas’ hand until the train sped up, and if she kept holding it after there was no one there to see them, Cas wasn’t bothered by it.

 

* * *

 

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Meg commented on the ride back. “What are you thinking?”

Cas stopped staring at the passing buildings and turned to her. “Just, uh… this has been an unusual Saturday for you and me,” he lied.

He was actually thinking about how much he had enjoyed it. Having Meg all to himself in his apartment, watching movies, having sex, talking… just enjoying her company; that was wonderful and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. But sharing another part of his life with her, seeing exactly how good she’d gotten along with Hael and Hannah, and then walking hand in hand in the station, with the shoulders barely grazing and not saying a word, had made his heart twitch painfully.

He didn’t fool himself: he knew at a certain level they had never stopped being Alice and Jimmy, a call girl and her client. Their relationship had very clear rules of what was and wasn’t allowed to happen between them and those rules worked like a big wall with a wire fence on top and warning signs about what would happen if they ever went to the other side.

But for some time now, they’ve been jumping from one side to the other. And today, well...

It made him wish it was real. All of it. It made him wish they were just Meg and Cas.

Of course he couldn’t say that out loud. It would freak her out, maybe enough for her to quit. This was her job, after all, and she had just been fulfilling a need. He couldn’t get all emotional about it.

“It was rather unexpected,” Meg agreed as the taxi pulled up in front of Cas apartment. “But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy myself.”

“Really?”

“Cas, your niece is a treasure,” Meg laughed. “And I don’t have to tell you how great Hannah is, do I?”

“No, you don’t,” he said, as he held the door for her (he knew it annoyed her, but it was habit ingrained in his system). “I’m very lucky to have them.”

He went silent again. He wanted to tell her he couldn’t imagine having either of them going through what Meg’s brother was going through. All he could do was stand in the middle of his living room, and watch her turn to him when he stopped talking so abruptly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Castiel assured her. He walked up to her and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“You mean go to bed, or just go to bed?” Meg asked, playfully.

Either was fine with Castiel.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you sure you don’t need me there?” Meg asked over the phone. “’Cause I can call and…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom’s tone was almost a protest. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it. Besides, I got my baby with me.”

Meg imagined Tessa was within earshot. Tom had never missed an opportunity to flirt with her, but lately it sounded like his flirting had begun intensifying. Meg didn’t like to think about the implications of that. She didn’t like knowing that Tom was going to the hospital for more tests on Friday afternoon, tests that would determine if it was worth it for him to go on radiation therapy again.

And she wouldn’t be there for him. She had to go to Cas’ apartment.

“I’m sorry I hadn’t been around lately,” she apologized. The doorbell rang, and Meg stood up to open it.

“Yes, you’re a terrible sister,” Tom accused her. She could almost hear the eye roll. “Working your ass off at the catering and on the weekends with your mysterious boss. Using every dime you make to help keep a roof over your stupid brother’s head. How dare you.”

“Megan Masters?” asked the delivery man standing on her door with a package. Meg frowned. She didn’t remember ordering anything online.

“Tom, I mean it,” Meg said, as she scrawled her signature on the dotted line. “I wish I could spend more time with you…”

“No dying talk, remember?” Tom cut her off. “We have to stay positive.”

His voice had lost the cheery tone. Meg sat on the couch with the package by her side and waited.

“But in all seriousness, kid,” he said, after a long pause. “If the results come back and it’s not good news, then that’s that. No need for you and Tessa to wallow in grief.”

“We’re gonna wallow in grief anyway,” Meg muttered. “It’s not like you’re going to be around to stop us.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tom congratulated her. “But, uh… what I’m saying is, you need to live your life for yourself. Do whatever the hell you want. Am I making sense?”

“You’re making a lot of sense,” Meg guaranteed him. “Love you, Tommy.”

“Right back at you.”

They hung up and Meg wiped the single tear that was falling down her cheek right in time to prevent Ruby from seeing it.

“Hey,” her roommate greeted her as she walked in carrying all her books. “What’s that?”

“No idea,” Meg turned her attention back to the mysterious package. “Someone sent it to me.”

“Oh, let me see!” Ruby said, and before Meg could give her permission, she snatched from her and ripped it open. They both stared at the interior, blinking in disconcern. “Well,” Ruby said, picking the dress by one strap. “I bet I know who did.”

 

* * *

 

Castiel opened the office’s door with concern growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Did you want to see me?” he asked.

Naomi raised a finger. “Yes, I am aware you’re a very important person, Senator,” she was saying to someone on the phone. She gestured for Castiel to come in and close the door. “But we cannot exempt you from our fees…”

Castiel hated his mother’s office: it was all white and silver, as sterile as the most unwelcoming hospital room. Naomi insisted it was elegant, and dressed to match it: in the office, she was rarely seen without gray tailor suits and white button-up shirts. Today she added a very tight bun and small earrings that glimmered when she finally finished talking to the Senator and pointed to the two (white and uncomfortable) armchairs, gesturing for Castiel to sit.

“As you know, your brother and Rachel are coming back from their honeymoon at the end of the week,” Naomi began, serving herself a glass of water and offering one to Castiel. “I am a throwing a small dinner party to welcome them on Saturday, and I expect you to be there.”

Castiel had to use all his willpower not to cringe. “As you wish.”

His mother sat in the armchair in front of him and crossed her legs. “I expect you to be there accompanied,” she clarified, glaring at Castiel with eyes like darts.

He wasn’t surprised at all to find out she knew about Meg. What shocked him was that she was being so direct about it. Usually, Naomi confirmed information she already had with subtle interrogation and bribery.

“If you mean I should invite my… friend Meg,” he said, settling for the most neutral term he could think of. “I shall have you know our relationship is not at that serious a stage where I’d want to introduce her to my family.”

“Well, that’s your opinion,” Naomi shrugged. Usually that meant that Castiel was either wrong or didn’t have a vote. Castiel opened his mouth and decided to try to put up a fight anyway, but Naomi interrupted him: “I already went ahead and made some… arrangements.”

Before the panic could set in Castiel’s gut, his cell phone rang.

“What the hell does this mean?” Meg asked on the other side. She sounded irritated.

“Meg, can I call you back?” asked Castiel, eyeing Naomi wearily. She was smiling, satisfied.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary!” she said, raising her hands. “We’re done here. Go ahead and talk to your… friend.”

Castiel would never stop marveling at how she made the most innocent words sound like insults. He left for his own office, where at least he could expect some privacy.

“What is it?” Castiel asked, dreading the answer.

“Like you don’t know,” Meg said. “We agreed you wouldn’t send me presents, or waste your money on me…”

“I swear, I have no idea what are you talking about,” Castiel assured him.

“No?” Meg scoffed. “So I guess you had nothing to do with the freaking designer dress that came with the mail this morning?”

Castiel hit his forehead against the desk. He wasn’t sure she would believe him even if he explained, but luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Oh, God, you did have nothing to do with it,” Meg realized.

“It’s from my mother,” he admitted. “She is… well, she wants to meet you.”

“Why the hell would she want that?”

Castiel was not in the mood for finding delicate ways to put it. “Because you are an aspect of my life that’s beyond her control, and that annoys her to no end.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Castiel wholeheartedly agreed.

“So when is this thing that she wants me to go to?” Meg asked.

“You don’t have to do it,” Castiel clarified. “I don’t care if it displeases her. I’ve survived my mother’s rage before, I can do it again.”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Meg said. “Really. It can’t be worse than lying to Hannah and Hael.”

“Yes, it can,” Castiel stated. “It probably will.”

“Well, I ain’t afraid of her,” Meg replied decidedly. “And if I can save you from some nasty argument, I’ll take it as a bonus.”

Castiel let out the air he’d been holding very slowly. “If you’re willing to do it, then you can take the rest of the weekend off,” he said. “One night with my family can be terribly stressing.”

There was silent on the other end for a moment.

“I might just take you up on that,” Meg commented in the end. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I understand all of this isn’t part of our agreement, and I’m sorry you have to go through it,” he said.

“Is it okay if I don’t wear this dress, though?” Meg asked. “It’s pretty and all, but I’ll probably have to cut off some slices of my hip to fit in it…. and Ruby wants to know if she can keep it.”

Castiel considered that having Meg going, but dressed up however she wanted, would still be defying his mother. He loved the idea.

 

* * *

 

“Big dinner tonight, eh, boss?” Dean asked, almost mockingly when he saw Castiel walk out of the building in his suit and overcoat. Castiel groaned and slid into the backseat. Dean started the car. “So, do you want me to stop anywhere…?”

“Yes,” Castiel sighed. “We need to go look for my date.”

Dean stomped on the brakes so suddenly that the car behind them almost crashed into them.

“You’re taking Meg with you?!” he exclaimed, scandalized.

“Unless there’s another woman I have been regularly seeing…” Castiel shrugged.

Dean turned around his whole body to face Castiel, ignoring the honks and swears from the other drivers. “Okay, boss, when I said you should take her out sometime, a dinner with your family is so not what I meant.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to smile. Even Dean knew how terrible those people were.

“I believe Meg can deal with them,” Castiel said, sincerely. “Now, Dean, we should get moving before somebody writes us a ticket.”

Dean cursed under his breath but did as he was told. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again:

“Boss, you know I think you’re a good guy,” he started.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel interrupted him. “And as I’ve told you before, there’s no need to be so formal. You may call me by my name.”

“Cas, then,” Dean said, hesitantly, like he was pretty sure Castiel would take away his offer. “As I was saying, this job isn’t the worst I’ve ever had and it pays okay, but I have a kid, and I’ve been saving up to propose to my girl…”

Castiel was pretty certain of the point Dean was trying to make, but he waited respectfully until he finished. The driver cleared his throat.

“You’re probably going to fire me after I tell you this,” he confessed.

“There’s no need for you to tell me anything, Dean,” Castiel stopped him.

“Yeah, but it may be the reason…”

“Dean,” Castiel said. “I promise you, I understand. You did what was most convenient to you and you can’t be blamed for it. As for me, I am used to the constant invasion of my privacy.”

“Yeah, but how about Meg’s privacy?” Dean inquired, as parked the car in front of Meg’s building.

“Ah, yes. That is a matter we still need to discuss,” he admitted sadly. He exited the car and rang the intercom.

“Yes?” a female voice said, and upon introducing himself, she added: “Oh, yeah, she’s on her way down. Hey, thanks for the dress, by the way.”

Castiel took it that was Ruby. A few seconds later, the building’s door opened and Meg walked out.

Cas recognized the dress immediately: it was the short black one she’d been wearing the night they met, but she had modified it to make even more elegant. She had embroidered several silver accents around the neckline so it didn’t seem as low cut, and added a belt to bring up her waistline. She was wearing a black shawl around on her shoulders and a simple golden bracelet around her wrist. Her hair was held up in a loose ponytail with several curly locks falling on her forehead. She smirked, and walked up to him, making sure to flaunt her vertiginous high heels.

“So?” she asked, extending a hand to show off her attire. “What do you think? Fancy enough for a dinner party with the Novaks?”

Castiel would have kissed her if it hadn’t meant ruining her make-up.

“You’re perfect,” he said instead.

 

* * *

 

From there, it was almost an hour ride to Scarsdale and the Novak’s household. Meg got increasingly quiet and nervous as they left behind the City’s buildings and more two-story houses with perfectly mowed lawns started parading outside the window. Castiel squeezed her hand.

“We can still turn around,” he told her tranquilly.

“No,” Meg shook her head. “I said I was going to go through with it, and I am.”

She sounded way more confident than she actually felt, but that could only be a good thing. Finally, they parked in front of an impressive mansion with golden gates and a swimming pool on the front yard.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Meg muttered to herself, as she raised her head to take all the windows and balconies that overlooked the enormous garden.

“It’s a bit ostentatious,” Castiel admitted.

“Yeah, sure,” Meg said. “Ostentatious is exactly the word I had in mind.”

Castiel chuckled and kissed her in the cheek. “Wait here. I have to identify myself in the gate,” he said, and when Meg frowned at him, he shrugged. “Security is our business.”

“Nervous?” Dean asked once Castiel left them alone.

“I may or may not be dying inside,” she confessed.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Word of advice? Don’t look at Naomi in the eye. She’s like a rabid dog and she’ll think you’re defying her. She can smell your fear.”

“Got you.”

“Oh, and don’t stand near Kali and Gabriel,” Dean added. “They’re chain smokers and frankly insane. Don’t make any comments about Lucifer’s name. If you can, sit with Anna and Raphael. They’re okay, though they might bore you with medical jargon. If you need anything, ask Benny, the butler. He’s a bro and won’t tell on you. Avoid Andrea, the maid, at all costs. She’s the snitch.”

“I’ll… try to remember all of that,” Meg said, a little bit taken aback.

“And whatever you do,” Dean turned to her as if to mark the importance of that last advice. “Don’t mention Castiel used to be engaged to Rachel.”

Meg blinked. “Are you sure you’re just a driver?”

“We’re all set,” Castiel announced, getting back into the car. The gates opened and Dean rolled the car inside and stopped next to the front door. Meg figured that was what movie stars must feel like when Dean opened the door for them and Castiel offered her his hand to help her get out.

“So, should I expect anyone famous to be here tonight?” Meg asked, jokingly, but Castiel seemed to actually stop and think about it.

“I think my cousin Hester’s columns are rather popular?” he commented, unsure. The door opened for them before they even knocked, and a large, tall man in a tuxedo bowed his head to them.

“Good night, Mr. Novak,” he greeted them, respectfully. “Miss Masters, welcome.”

“Hello, Benny,” Castiel answered and let him take his overcoat and Meg’s shawl. “Are we late?”

“Not at all, sir,” Benny said. “We’re still waiting for Mr. Smith, Mr. Gabriel, and Mrs. Kali. Your mother is entertaining the other guests in the lounge.”

“Ah, yes,” Castiel sighed, while she wondered who the fuck had a lounge. “We shouldn’t keep her waiting. Listen; make sure Dean has something to eat, please?”

Benny’s smile seemed to widen and become more sincere. “Will do, sir.”

“Those two are best buds, huh?” Meg asked, as Castiel guided her across the hall.

“For the amount of parties they all had to wait on together, I would say all the members of the staff are good friends,” Castiel said.

“See, that’s one thing I don’t understand,” Meg replied. “Why do you need an entire staff of people? It’s like you can’t even be bothered to do anything trivial for yourselves.”

She stopped on her tracks when she realized she’d spoken too loud and everyone in the lounge had heard her. There was a tense silence in which the people sitting in those elegant couches and arm chairs all stared at her like Meg was some kind of monstrous being that dragged itself out of a swamp and was now about to spread mud and algae all over the beige carpet.

Then, a man that must have been about twenty years old, but looked much younger since he was so short, stood up and walked over to them.

“Castiel!” he said with a delighted smile as he hugged him.

“Hello, Samandriel,” Cas greeted him.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” the boy protested. “It’s Alfie.”

“Alfie, yes, of course,” Castiel nodded. “Meg, this is my cousin, Samandriel Milton. He goes by Alfie these days.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Alfie had two sisters, Anna and Hester, who also stood up to shake her hand. Their respective husbands, Raphael and Bartholomew, also greeted them in very different manners: Raphael shook her hand with so much strength Meg had to check that she hadn’t broken any bones, while Bartholomew gave her a kiss on the back of her hand. They were all carrying glasses of champagne, and a maid with a long black braid (who Castiel helpfully identified as Andrea) came over carrying a plate and offered them both one. Meg accepted, because she had the feeling she wasn’t going to pull through this sober.

“This is Lucifer and his wife Lilith,” Castiel introduced her to Samandriel’s older brother. “And, uh… this is my brother Michael. And Rachel.”

Meg had no trouble recognizing her: it was like the hairdo with the rigid blonde curls hadn’t moved an inch since the wedding, although the make-up she was wearing now was much more discreet, in earthly tones that matched her dark green dress. Michael kept a possessive arm around her waist as she shook Meg’s hand, like he feared that Castiel might snatch her away if he wasn’t careful enough. He would deserve it, though.

“How was the honeymoon?” Meg asked, with her politest tone.

“Oh, it was splendid,” Rachel exclaimed, with a dreamy expression. “We went to everywhere, from Venice to Prague to Paris. And on the way back I got to see some of my old friends in London. Ever been?”

“I hadn’t had the chance,” Meg said, pretty sure Rachel was mocking her in some way.

“Alright, Rachel, don’t overwhelm her,” a voice came from behind them, and it was like the parting of the sea, because both Michael and Rachel automatically stepped aside.

Naomi Novak looked as severe as Meg remembered her, even though tonight she had her hair down and was wearing a peach dress instead of the funeral one she had at the wedding. The smile she showed Meg was tense.

“Megan, nice to meet you after all,” she said. She didn’t add that Castiel had talked a lot about her, because they both would have known that was lie. Her hand was cold, and her nails reminded Meg of claws. “Nice dress.”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Meg looked down and smiled all humble. “I would have put on the one you sent me, but it just wasn’t my size. So I made a trade with my roommate.”

“Really?” Naomi crooked an eyebrow and Meg could just see the rage simmering behind her small brown eyes when there was a commotion at the lounge’s entry.

“No fear, the life of the party is here!” Gabriel announced himself, sauntering in arm in arm with his wife. Kali was wearing a midnight blue sari with golden and silver embroidery forming circular patterns all over it. Meg considered it beautiful, but Naomi cringed visibly.

“Nobody seems to take my fashion advices these days,” she commented.

“Oh, Mother dear, don’t need to get all upset about it,” Gabriel said cheerily as he kissed her on the cheek. “You know I’d think Kali would look perfect even if she was wearing a garbage bag.”

“Thank you, darling,” Kali said, all dignified, and then she noticed Meg. “Hello. You seem familiar.”

“Uh, this is my friend Meg…” Castiel started, but Gabriel interrupted him.

“Hot damn, you’re pretty,” he said, and Kali stepped on his foot. “Ouch… I mean, just friends? Cassie, I knew you were slow, but this is a whole new level… ouch, ouch,” Gabriel protested, because Kali had just pinched him in the arm. Meg would have laughed, except everyone around her seemed to be preparing to murder Gabriel and Castiel was looking at the points of his shoes. “Oh, Cas, don’t put on that face,” Gabriel said, patting him on the cheek. “It’s just some harmless messing around. You know it’s the only kind of messing around I’d dare to inflict on you. I’d never steal your girl or something.”

“Gabriel!” Naomi exclaimed, and shot a look in Kali’s direction, like she expected her to pinch her husband again. Kali simply took a sip of her glass and ignored her. Rachel and Michael looked utterly mortified, and Castiel was pale. Meg immediately grabbed his hand, and Castiel squeezed hers tightly, letting a slow, deep breath. Then he looked at her and offered a weak smile, as if to indicate he was fine.

Meg didn’t quite believe it, and for the first time, she was glad she had come along. If that was the kind of bullshit he had to put up with when he was accompanied by a virtual stranger, she could only imagine what it would be like when it was only “family.”

“Good evening, everyone,” said a short, gray-haired man walking in with a greasy smile. “Naomi, my dear, how are you?”

“Mervin,” Naomi sighed, and put on a pleased expression, as if she had forgotten the uncomfortable moment just like that. “Just in time. This is my business partner and best friend, Mervin Smith.”

“Oh, no, not him,” someone whispered very softly.

Castiel looked he had just swallowed a bug, and Gabriel was exasperated, like he didn’t know where to begin to poke Mervin. Kali rolled her eyes. The only one who received Mervin as enthusiastically as his mother was Michael.

“Hey, Merv,” he said, while Rachel forced a smile. “We missed you at the wedding.”

“Oh, well, you know, duty,” Mervin shrugged, and shook Michael’s hand. “Somebody had to stay and watch the fort while you had fun. Speaking of fun, how was the honeymoon?”

This time Rachel didn’t seem as eager to brag about the places they had visited, because the wiggle of his eyebrows indicated Mervin wasn’t asking about that. Luckily for everyone, Benny showed up and announced the dinner was ready.

Why somebody needed a whole room just for eating was something Meg couldn’t even begin to fathom, but there it was. The dining room had white walls adorned with all sorts of paintings in the wall, and the table was long enough for all fifteen of them to sit comfortably. Meg tried to get the seat next to Anna, but Hester beat her to it, so she ended up between Cas and Samandriel and across from Gabriel and Kali. Still, it could have been worse. She could have ended next to Mervin, for example.

“My dear, what a wonderful soup,” he said, after Benny and Andrea served the first plate. It was amazing how swiftly and quietly they moved. “Is this your recipe?”

“Suck-up,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. Kali seemed too busy eating and piercing Meg’s face with her dark eyes to shut him up.

“I am determined to find out where I know you from,” she said. “Are you a model? An actress?”

“I work for my sister-in-law,” Meg said, after exchanging a look with Castiel. “She has a catering service.”

“I knew it!” Kali snapped her fingers, triumphal. “You were our waitress at the wedding.”

“Oh, you mean the waitress who got Gabriel so drunk he fell off his chair?” asked Alfie, sharply.

“Don’t be so rough, dear cousin,” Gabriel shrugged. “I would’ve got drunk no matter what and in spite of whoever was waiting our table. Speaking of getting drunk, Benny, could you please…?”

“No, no more alcohol for you,” Kali snatched the glass from his hand. “You already took a pill.”

Gabriel grimaced, but didn’t protest. Meg was thinking that explained Gabriel’s hype and how fucked up it was the man had to take a pill to deal with his own family, so she missed Alfie’s next question.

“Meg does several things for the catering service,” Castiel answered for her. “Including waiting tables. I don’t see how that is a shameful thing.”

“I didn’t say…” Alfie started defensively. Luckily (or maybe not) the argument was cut off short when Rachel dragged a chair from the other side of the table and sat in between Castiel and Lucifer.

“Oh, you just have to see the pictures we took,” she said, basically shoving a digital camera in front of them.

Meg wondered if she didn’t realize or if she simply didn’t care that she was sinking it in further and twisting the knife. Castiel’s hand moved across the tablecloth, searching for Meg’s instinctively, and other than that, he remained completely stoic, nodding and smirking at Rachel’s rambling. Meg didn’t know how he managed. She would’ve thrown her dinner at her.

(Which, incidentally, wasn’t all that great. Tessa would have added a lot more spices to it.)

Well, somehow, she survived that, but just when she was starting to practice her silent “please, let’s go now” look, Naomi invited everyone for coffee and a piece of cake back in the lounge.

“Wonderful coffee, delicious,” Mervin kept exclaiming, and there was a collective eye roll before an ambient of amiable chatter set in.

Naomi was obviously getting tired of Mervin, because she kept saying things like “Yes, Mervin” and “That’s very interesting, Mervin,” while insistently glancing in Meg’s direction. Meg was wondering if that was a bad sign when Lucifer finally called Mervin’s attention and Naomi turned completely towards Meg. Dean hadn’t been exaggerating. She did look like a hound after her pray.

“So, Meg,” she began. “I imagine your job isn’t particularly… demanding.”

“Oh, it’s very demanding,” Meg answered calmly. “We’re a small business, so mostly we do little things, but once or twice a year we take on big events like… well, the wedding. It keeps things interesting, and always gives us a boost.”

“Well, we were very satisfied with the service at our wedding,” Michal chimed in. “Weren’t we, princess?”

Meg could tell was Cas physically revolted at that by how quickly he looked away, so she put her cup of coffee down and reached for his hand again.

“Yes, of course,” Rachel said. “Especially because…”

“Kali, dear, could you please not do that in here?” Naomi asked.

Everybody in the room looked at Kali in the same way everyone in a classroom looked at the one kid a severe teacher had just singled out. Kali had a cigarette between her lips and a lighter in her hands.

“Why, certainly,” Kali said, in a tone so soft Meg was sure she was subtly mocking Naomi’s. “Nobody else wants to take a cigarette break with me? Meg?”

“Uh… I quit when I was nineteen,” Meg said, confused.

“Well, it’s never too late to pick up the habit again.” Kali made a gesture with her hand and strutted towards the glass door that led to the backyard.

Meg wouldn’t have followed her, except both Naomi and Rachel were staring at her and Cas muttered “You can go, I’ll be fine,” and she desperately, urgently needed to get away from those people. Kali had already lit up her cigarette and didn’t even try to offer her one when Meg joined her.

“It’s actually not a cigarette break,” Kali answered Meg’s unspoken question. “It’s just a break from them.”

“They’re a handful, huh?” Meg said, not sure how much she could trust Kali with her real impressions.

“A handful of dicks,” Kali said, exasperated. “Look at them, judging you for what you do like they don’t all have skeletons in their closets. Except for Samandriel. I’m not sure there’s enough space in his closet for anyone other than himself. Come here.”

Meg was still wrapping her head around her last words, so she almost didn’t realize when Kali pulled her close and covered her mouth with her free hand.

“Pretend I’m telling you a very juicy and scandalous gossip,” she muttered.

“Why?”

“Because it will unnerve them,” Kali said, pointing at the lounge. Through the crystal Meg could see several nervous gazes cast in their direction.

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “So, now I’ll pretend to make a joke at the expense of what you just told me.”

“And we will laugh and they’ll be terrified that we’re best friends now,” Kali nodded, and added some very convincing giggles. “You must really love Cas.”

Meg’s laughter froze in her throat. “What?”

“I volunteered for one of these once and it almost made me break up with Gabriel.” Kali took a long drag out of her cigarette. “In the end, I married him out of pure stubbornness. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love him to pieces. But I was decided to be as much of a pain in Naomi’s ass as I could be.”

“Well, other than not giving me much of a choice, she hasn’t been so terrible to me,” Meg commented. It was true. The person she wanted to punch in the face the most right now was Rachel and her obliviousness to Cas’ pain.

“That’s ‘cause I got you out of there in time. No need to thank me,” Kali said. “Fair warning, though: she will find a way to get inside your head. And when she does, just remember why you’re doing this.”

Castiel was talking with Raphael near the door now, so Meg could see his profile clearly. He had his hands inside his pockets and looked a bit more relaxed than she had seen him all night. At least his smile wasn’t as forced. She could tell by the little wrinkles around his eyes, and suddenly she wondered when she’d become such an expert in Cas’ expressions.

“Take a deep breath,” Kali said, throwing her cigarette butt to the floor and carefully stepping on it, as if she took pleasure in defiling Naomi’s garden. “We’re going back in.”

She lassoed Meg’s arm and laughed out loud as they entered. Meg’s eyes immediately located Cas, who was standing around, still with the hands in his pockets.

“Oh, don’t worry, you can have her back now,” Kali told him. “I promise I didn’t corrupt her or anything.”

“I know you didn’t,” Castiel said. “She’s incorruptible.”

“Woah, was that a joke?” Gabriel asked, appearing behind Castiel. “There might still be hope for you, little brother.”

“Gabriel, take me home,” Kali sighed and put a hand on her head dramatically. “I have a headache that might just magically disappear once we get out of here.”

“You got it, baby.”

Gabriel and Kali said some rush goodbyes, and nobody was particularly sad to see them go. Meg took a look around the room, and realized everyone was quietly thinking about doing the same thing, except for Mervin, who was apparently reciting slam poetry now. Meg took consolation at the fact that, as poor as everyone’s opinion of her was, it couldn’t be worse than the one they had about Mervin.

“Well, he seems entertained,” Meg commented. She and Cas were still standing in their little corner away from the rest. “Do you want us to stay for another round?”

“Oh, God, no,” Castiel shook his head. “Let me get our coats.”

Meg was tempted to beg her not to leave her alone, but that would have been ridiculous and cowardly of her, so she waited patiently and tried not to look to anxious to leave. Someone cleared her throat behind her.

“So,” Rachel was standing there, with the same smile she had shown all night. “I never figured Cas would go for a girl… like you.”

Meg looked at her – really looked at her, maybe for the first time in the night – and all at once, all of her behavior made absolute sense.

“Don’t worry,” Meg said. “I’d be second-guessing my life choices too.”

She caught a glimpse of the horror on Rachel’s face right before Castiel returned.

“It’s cold outside,” he said, putting his own coat over Meg’s shoulder. “I’ve told Dean to turn up the heat a little. Good night, Rachel.”

Meg felt a sting of cruel gratification as she walked away with Castiel’s arm around her shoulders.


	10. Chapter 10

_You must really love Cas._

“Well,” Meg said that Sunday afternoon, when she already had a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Meg,” Cas called her. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Meg frowned and was about to check her bag to see if anything was missing when she noticed what Castiel had in his hand.

“Oh,” she muttered; her eyes glued to the white envelope she knew contained her check. “Is it the first of the month already?”

“It was yesterday,” Castiel pointed out and handed it to her.

Meg grabbed her with her fingertips. Yes, she remembered now. The leaves in Central Park had started to acquire a yellowish tint when they ran underneath them. Castiel had mentioned something about Hael starting her classes. The summer was over and this was her fourth check.

So far, she’d only needed to cash one to pay for Tom’s expenses at the hospital. The other two were safely stored away, in white envelopes identical to this one, with Castiel’s elegant signature stamped on them, and they were exactly as heavy as a piece of paper ought to be.

This one felt like it weighed a ton between her fingers.

“What’s the matter?” Castiel asked in lieu of her hesitation. “Do you want to revise it or…?”

“No, Cas, of course not,” she said, sliding the stupid envelope inside the pocket of her jacket. “I know you keep your word. You always do.”

Castiel blinked and tilted his head again. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” he inquired again. “You usually make some kind of joke, or…”

“It’s been a long weekend,” Meg interrupted him. “I want to go home and get some sleep.”

Castiel didn’t buy that for a second. “Something’s troubling you,” he insisted. “Please, tell me what it is. Was my family…?”

“No, no, they weren’t,” Meg answered. “A bit overbearing, but you had already warned about that. It was nothing I couldn’t take.”

“Then?”

Meg tapped her fingers on her bag, pensively. “It’s my family,” she said finally. That wasn’t a complete lie; she was worried about them constantly anyway. “Tom had some tests done on Friday, and, uh… well, they were to determine if it was terminal. He’s getting the results back tomorrow.”

“Oh, Meg,” Castiel took a step towards her and hesitated, like he didn’t know whether to hug her or put a hand on her shoulder. In the end, he decided to stay where he was. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Meg shook her head. “You’re already helping me out, Cas,” she said.

She didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but they both needed the reminder. This was a job. She was paid to be there. She was paid to entertain him, and make him laugh, and sleep in his bed, and put on a show for his family. She wasn’t supposed to dump her personal shit on him, because none of it was about her.

Because it wasn’t real.

She couldn’t forget that again.

She almost had the night before, when she thought she’d just one-upped his former fiancé. Then she remembered Rachel didn’t have to take an offer out of desperation.

“Right,” Castiel said. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Please, let me know about his results.”

Meg’s first thought was something aggressive and mean, along the lines of “What’s it to you?” But then she figured it made sense for him to ask. If she was doing this for her brother, and her brother died, then she’d no longer have a reason to keep working for him.

Or maybe he was concerned about her and a person he knew was important to her.

Okay. It was more than past time to stop overthinking.

“Will do,” she promised. “Bye, Cas.”

He didn’t walk her to the elevator or kissed her goodbye, like he did sometimes. He never knew just how thankful Meg was for that. Right now, she was defensive, annoyed, and still trying to kick Kali out of her head. She didn’t think she could handle him genuinely caring about her.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning was sunny and clear, and Meg would later remember it as the last warm day of the year. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning in bed for hours. Part of the night was dedicating to worrying about Tom, and the other part to dedicated to replaying and picking apart every one of Cas’ gestures and words in her presence. She still needed a strategy to keep the relationship as professional as she could.

In consequence, she was practically dozing off in the taxi until it parked in front of the hospital, where Tom and Tessa were waiting for her.

“You look like crap,” Tom greeted her. He looked cheery, not at all like a man who was about to face either a death sentence or a miracle.

“Good morning to you too,” Meg groaned and kissed him and Tessa on the cheek.

Tessa was worse at pretending everything was fine.

“How are you feeling?” she kept asking Tom as they climbed up the stairs to the oncologist’s office. “Would you have rather us to take the elevator?”

“I’m okay,” Tom complained, in the same tone a bratty child would have used to tell his mother she was embarrassing him. Then he took another step and cringed.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Meg rolled her eyes, and firmly grabbed his right arm while Tessa did the same with the other.

“I just got a tad of cancer, that’s all,” Tom said, but he didn’t complain when they helped him reach the top.

Doctor Flagstaff was waiting for them with a benign smile on her dark lips.

“How are you today, Mr. Masters?” she asked, kindly.

“If I were any better, I’d be bad for my health, doc,” Tom joked.

Flagstaff guided them inside and brought another chair for Meg. As soon as she sat behind her desk, her smile disappeared, replaced by a grave expression.

“I have your results, Mr. Masters,” she announced, and Meg felt the impulse to say that they knew and ask why the hell else would they be there. “I’m afraid is not good news.”

“Oh,” Tom said, his smile faltering. “Okay.”

“The tumors have metastasized in your bones,” the doctor continued. Tessa hid her face in Tom’s shoulder, and Meg wished she could have cried like her. She felt empty. “At this stage, there’s not much we can do…”

“How much time?” Tom asked, bluntly, rubbing circles on Tessa’s back to console her.

“With the right treatment, we can keep them at the size they are now, and that may prolong your life for some months,” Flagstaff said. “Four, maybe five months.”

“And without the treatment?”

Meg wanted to shout at him why the hell was he asking such a stupid question, of course he was going to take the treatment and be grateful about it.

“A month,” Flagstaff said. “Two at the most.”

“So I guess it is a matter of whether I want to die around Halloween or around Christmas, then.”

“Could you please not make a joke about this?” Meg finally recovered her voice.

The ambient in the office went from impending doom to tense in less than two seconds. Flagstaff stood up.

“I think you have some things to discuss,” she said, with a respectful small bow. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She walked out of the room, leaving the Masters’ alone with their grief. Tessa’s sobbing became louder.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered. “It’s not fair, we did everything right, you took all of your meds, you…”

“Shh, baby, it’s alright,” Tom patted her in the back. “I’m okay with this. You’re going to be too, in time…”

“How?” Meg asked. Had her voice broken down? She really hoped it hadn’t. She didn’t want to scream at him either, or break everything in Flagstaff’s office, like her nerves were telling her to do. “How can you be okay with it? How can you be so calm?”

Tom shrugged. “I had a good run, Meg,” he said. “The crab beat me to it, but I put a good fight.”

Meg stood up and started pacing around, just to do something that was in between staying where she was and running like hell out of there.

“Please, don’t be mad at me,” Tom begged, and it completely disarmed Meg’s slowly building rage. “If you want to get mad, do it after I’m dead. But don’t be mad at me right now.”

That was a fair request. Meg took a deep breath, returned to her seat and accepted the hand Tom was extending towards her.

“I’m tired,” he said. “And I know you’re too noble to say it, but you’re tired, too. You can stop now. Everything you’re doing, you can just… stop.”

Meg shook her head. No, she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t he realize that? That she wasn’t, that she couldn’t…?

“I’m not going to take the treatment,” he said, and Tessa’s whimpering punctuated that sentence. Tom kept stroking her arm. “I’m not. I’m sorry. I don’t want to die in this place all tied up to cables and…”

“It’s okay,” Meg said. (Though it really wasn’t. She just wanted him to stop talking.) “I understand, Tommy. It’s alright.”

Tom tried to smile one last time, but he couldn’t. His eyes were too full of tears and his hand was trembling between Meg’s fingers. She squeezed it very tight and let him put his head on her shoulder, the same way Tessa was hiding her face in his. Tom cried a little bit, while Meg kept whispering that she didn’t mind.

Like she was giving him permission to stop, too.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, where have you been?” Ruby asked, when Meg walked in. “I thought we were going to… what is it?” she asked, when she noticed Meg’s puffy eyes. “Is it Tom? Is it bad?”

“It’s very bad,” Meg managed to say.

“Oh, Meggy,” Ruby ran up to her and gave her a hug so tight it was amazing all of Meg’s ribs remained intact. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

No. There wasn’t a thing in the world Ruby could do. There wasn’t a thing in the world Meg or anyone could have done to change the result, and that realization was stuck in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe.

“I could use some ice cream,” she said, instead.

“Ice cream! Of course!” Ruby let go of her and ran inside of her room and immediately came back with her purse. “I’ll be back in five minutes with all of the ice cream, okay?” she promised as she put on her shoes. “And we can have whatever you want for dinner. If you want even more ice cream, we’ll eat that.”

“Thanks,” Meg said. She sat on the couch, and when she heard the door closing, she let out the deep sigh she had been holding in since the hospital.

Well, there it was. Her brother was going to die. She was going to be left alone in the world. She was going to left without a single thing to do. She’d have to be there for Tessa, of course, and keep on working in the catering, and she guessed those were pretty important things. But she didn’t… she didn’t know if she could pull it off.

The conversation she’d had with Tom (not two days ago, when what they’d told them that morning was nothing but one of several remote possibilities) came rushing back into her head.

_You need to live for yourself._

_You must really love Cas._

Like thinking about him had somehow invoked him, Meg’s cellphone started ringing and Cas’ face appeared on the screen. She grimaced to herself. She couldn’t have explained why, but the picture she had chosen for him was the one Hael had taken of them at the station. She really needed to rethink a lot of things.

“Meg?” he said when she picked up. “Is this a bad time?”

It was weird how his voice calmed her down, how it made her think of a place where she felt safe: in his apartment, in his bed, between his arms…

“No, it’s… well, I don’t think there’s going to be a good time for this, Cas,” she said.

She didn’t have to clarify what she meant. Castiel understood.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Meg wished everybody would just stop saying that. “If you need anything…”

She couldn’t ask for it. It wasn’t right. Their relationship was strictly a business one. This would be abusing Cas’ good nature, and really…

“Can I come and I see you?” she asked. “Can I… go to your place tonight?”

There was silence in the other end, and Meg was about to take it back when he replied: “Absolutely. I’ll tell Dean to go pick you up…”

“No, it’s… you don’t have to do that,” Meg cut him off. For some reason, that wasn’t right for this situation. She needed to go to him. “I’ll just take a cab. I… need to see you.”

Silence again. Castiel breathed deeply. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

* * *

 

When Castiel’s intercom rang and he went down, the first thing he noticed was just how exhausted Meg looked standing at the other side of the glass door. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lips were chapped and her hair was a mess: it was like she had tried to tie up, but then gave up halfway. She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a sweater, and had nothing on her other than a small purse.

“Hey,” she said. Even her voice was tired: Instead of her usual deep whisper that was almost like a purr, she sounded like she had throat ache.

“Hello,” Castiel opened the door for her. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, as she followed him to the elevator. “I know this isn’t how we usually do things…”

“You are in an unusual situation,” Castiel replied.

Then he remained in silence as the elevator doors closed. He was simply at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her coming to him, but shouldn’t she be with her family and friends at that very moment? What was so important that they needed to talk to that couldn’t wait? Oh, God, her eyes were so red. Castiel wanted to hug her, but he was contented with touching her arm ever so softly.

Meg immediately turned to him, put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him down for a hungry kiss. Castiel suddenly understood what it was about: Meg needed a distraction, like he had needed the night before Michael and Rachel’s wedding.

He could help her with that.

He put both hands on her shoulders and pushed her against the elevator’s wall. He was used to the taste of her mouth by now, to her hair tangled between his fingers, but it still mesmerized him how well their bodies seemed to fit together, how the touch of her skin made him shudder. Meg was holding on to him for dear life now, her arms around his neck as he pulled him so close he could feel her tiny body crushing against his.

When they broke apart, they were both out of breath.

“Cas…” she muttered.

Castiel hushed her and hugged her tight. The elevator stopped with a ping, bringing them both back to reality.

“I wasn’t planning on staying the night,” Meg commented.

“I understand,” Castiel nodded.

Meg didn’t let go off his hand as they walked the short distance to his apartment. Once inside, Meg kissed him again, slow and deliberate this time. Castiel grabbed her by the waist and sat her on the kitchen counter. He stood between his legs, stroking her cheek with his thumb as she kept exploring his mouth and her hands roamed beneath his shirt. Castiel moved on to kiss her softly on the neck, right on the spot he knew she liked.

Meg breathed in sharply. “This sucks so much,” she said.

By the way she kept holding onto him, Castiel deduced she wasn’t talking about his kissing capabilities, so he kept peppering little kisses all around her collarbone. “What does?” he asked, softly.

“That I met you when I met you,” she clarified. “That you met Alice before you met Meg.”

Castiel stopped what he was doing altogether and stepped back to look at her.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Meg, please don’t cry…”

To be fair, Meg wasn’t so much crying as choking back the tears. She forced a smile anyway.

“You know what Tom told me today?” she asked. “He told me I could stop.”

Castiel nodded, and leaned his forehead against Meg’s neck. “You’re here to say goodbye,” he guessed. Of course. It made absolute sense. She was doing this for her brother, after all, and now it was just… pointless.

Having Castiel in her life was pointless.

Meg didn’t reply right away. They stayed where they were for several seconds, each pondering thoughts that probably didn’t have much common ground.

“There’s a weird thing that happens when you have sex for money,” she said. “You’re supposed to pretend you’re interested in the client, no matter how repulsive or creepy or boring you really find him. It’s exhausting and awful, and many can’t see the difference.”

Castiel closed his eyes. This was it. This was the moment she’d tell him he was one of the boring guys because he waited weeks before having sex, or worse, one of the creepy ones because he tracked her down to the agency. This was the moment she thanked him, but reminded him her affection was nothing but another commodity he had acquired on a whim.

“The first time we met, you told me not to fake it,” Meg continued. “And I didn’t. I never did. You need to know that, Cas. I never faked it with you. Not that it made it any less fake.”

Castiel raised her head to look at her face. There was softness in her eyes like he had never seen before, and her hand was trembling when she grabbed his.

“But here’s the thing: sometimes I managed to forget that. Did the same happen to you?”

“All the time,” Castiel confessed. There was no point in denying it if she was at the edge of walking out of his life.

“I’m such a mess, Cas,” she said. “I don’t even know what I was going with all of this. All I know is I want this. I want us. And I don’t want to do it for money anymore.”

Castiel’s heart, that had been beating somewhere around his throat the whole time, returned to his chest. He cupped Meg’s cheeks and softly made her look at him.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything right now,” Meg admitted. “Only that I’m falling apart, and here, with you, seemed like the best place to do that.”

Castiel chuckled, but it came out as something midway between a cough and a sob. He kissed Meg’s forehead.

“Then fall apart,” he said. “You can decide in the morning, when you’re better.”

Meg hid her face in his chest, and let out a long sigh. It sounded like she’d been holding it in for ages.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Meg looked peaceful when she slept. It was a phenomenon Cas had observed on several occasions: When she was awake, it was not very easy to read her expressions. She wasn’t one for showing too much emotion. She would usually put on a smirk, or raise an eyebrow. The night before, even when it was obvious she was in a bad place, she hadn’t cried or screamed. She had just hidden her head in his chest and sobbed quietly. He knew it wasn’t because Meg didn’t feel things. It was because she was so used to keeping herself together in difficult times.

But when she was asleep, she looked relaxed, content. He brushed her hair aside, careful not to wake her up. It was six and his alarm clock wouldn’t go off for another half hour or so, but Castiel couldn’t go back to sleep. So he stared at Meg’s face in the dark room, at the curve of her back hiding under the sheets, at her fingers softly touching his chest.

He was familiar with all of these things. He knew the slight variations in her expressions by heart; he had fallen asleep to the cadence of her breathing over his skin for several nights.

And yet, everything about having Meg in his bed that morning felt new. Because the night before they had been delicate with each other and taken their time to explore their bodies. Because he was pretty sure he heard her murmuring some words that would have never left her lips before that moment. Because it was a Tuesday morning, the first morning of the rest of their lives, and Castiel felt elated.

He heard his cellphone vibrating on the nightstand, and he carefully moved Meg’s hand before rolling over on the bed to check it. He expected an e-mail from Hael, who wrote him on daily basis to inform him how she was doing in college, but it was actually a text from his mother, demanding he come into the office a little earlier, for she had some serious issues to discuss with him.

Castiel sighed and rubbed his eyes. He got up and turned off the alarm so Meg could keep sleeping. She didn’t have to go to work today, so she could get some well-deserved rest. He followed his usual morning routine, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean arrived when he was making himself some coffee.

“Morning, boss,” he greeted Castiel.

Cas hushed him, putting a finger over his lips. “Meg’s sleeping,” he told him. “Could you wait until she wakes up? In case she needs a ride home or something.”

“O… kay, sure,” Dean said, obviously taken aback but that development. “But how are you gonna get to work?”

“I’ll catch a cab,” Castiel shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll take the subway. I never do that.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Dean said. His sarcasm was not lost on Castiel, but he was in too much of a good mood to care.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said. “I know this sort of thing isn’t part of your normal job.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Dean said, waving a hand as if to dismiss the issue. “Go. Mrs. Novak sounded like it was a very urgent business when she woke me up and told me to get your ass over there.”

“Everything is urgent to her,” Castiel sighed, as he picked up his keys and left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

The cubicles and offices were depressingly empty when he arrived, and his steps echoed ominously as he entered his mother’s office. She was already on the phone, and speaking in a language Castiel identified as Italian. She signaled for him to come in as she said goodbye to whoever was on the other side.

“The Italian Embassy has solicited our services to protect some of their visiting politicians,” she informed Castiel. She looked extremely proud of herself. “I knew it was worth it to pay for such a prolonged trip for your brother.”

Castiel blinked, confused. “It was his honeymoon,” he reminded her.

“Oh, yes, I know it was,” Naomi rolled her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean he couldn’t hand out a business card or two. That’s one thing you never learned, Castiel: One should take every opportunity to make connections.”

“That’s extremely callous, Mother,” Castiel pointed out.

Naomi’s grey eyes were burning with cold fire when she glared at Castiel. He immediately realized that, despite her smile and controlled tone, his mother was angry.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But kindness didn’t build this business.”

Castiel wasn’t sure where this was going, but he didn’t like it. Thinking the best defense was a good offense; he cleared his throat and tried to control his nerves.

“Is there a reason you wanted to see me?” he asked.

“Yes, Castiel,” Naomi sat behind her desk, composed and perfectly poised. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your… friend, for a while now.”

Castiel didn’t ask how she knew about Meg before sending her the dress. He knew that already. He took a deep breath and braced himself.

“I know Meg isn’t the kind of woman you’d approve of…” he started.

“Oh, I’ll say.”

“… because my relationship with her won’t benefit the family business in any way,” Castiel continued, trying to keep the cynicism in his voice to the lowest level. “But she makes me happy, and I hope you can come to accept that.”

As the words left his mouth, Castiel realized that was too much to ask. Naomi didn’t blush (that was far too vulgar for a woman of her position), but her cheeks acquired a rosy tint that Castiel had always associated with irritation and bad news.

“You think that is the only reason I disapprove of her?” she asked, her voice crackling with anger. “You judge me poorly, Castiel.”

Castiel wanted to say that no, he was judging her for the exact way she had behaved in the past. She had kicked Hannah out of the house for refusing to have an abortion and keep the picture of the perfect religious family. She had bullied and insulted Kali relentlessly for years, trying to drive her away from Gabriel’s side. She had rushed Rachel and Michael’s wedding and forced Castiel to assist regardless of his feelings.

He knew exactly who Naomi was and what she was capable of. He knew how her brain worked. And he didn’t fool himself on where this conversation was going.

But that was a completely different discussion, and he needed to stick for his original point now.

“Meg and I are… together,” he said. They hadn’t discussed it in detail, but he was pretty sure that was a good way to put it. “And we will continue to be regardless of your opinion and the reasons for them, Mother.”

Naomi’s lips formed a tense smile, and that’s when Castiel knew he had made a mistake.

“But you have not heard my reasons yet,” she argued, opening a drawer in her desk and pulling out a blue folder. “Do you have any idea who the woman you’re associating yourself with really is, Castiel? Has she told what she did for a living?”

He didn’t say a word. He was pretty sure what he was going to see when she opened the folder, but he was still pretty shocked to see the picture that appeared in Josie Sands’ website along with Meg’s nickname and data. He wondered, mildly impressed, to what lengths his mother had to go through to get it.

“She was a call girl,” Naomi said; her eyes glimmering with triumph. “A prostitute, Castiel. Who knows how many men she’s slept with?”

Castiel raised his eyes. There was a burning sensation on his chest, and he identified it as rage. He couldn’t remember ever being so angry at his mother.

“I already knew,” he said, defiantly refusing to look away. Naomi’s smile wavered.

“You… did?” she spat.

“What Meg has done in the past doesn’t determine her worth as a person,” Castiel said, very slowly and taking deep breaths in between every word, so as to calm the urge to destroy everything in the office. “And neither you nor I have the right to judge her.”

Naomi’s lips had paled now, like she expected this to go into a whole different direction. Castiel waited, completely sure she wasn’t done yet.

“You are a fool!” she exploded, finally. “Don’t you realize what’s going on? Her family is up to their necks in medical bills and that business of theirs is about to go under!”

“Meg’s financial difficulties are none of your concern,” Castiel replied, clenching his fists and trying to keep some resemblance of calm.

“They _are_ my concern!” Naomi yelled. “They are when she’s trying to bleed my son dry!”

“That’s what you’re worried about, then?” Castiel said, through gritted teeth. “Money? Or are you scared all your holier-than-thou friends may discover what Meg used to do? Because if they have a problem with it, then I will kindly leave their presence forever.”

“How dare you?” Naomi screamed, standing up, but for the first time in a long time, Castiel wasn’t afraid of her. “You would choose that whore over your reputation? Your family? _How can you say that?!_ ”

“Because I love her!” he shouted.

Castiel didn’t realize he had jumped from his chair. He was breathing heavily, like the sheer force of what he had been trying to transmit had punched all the air from his lungs. He hadn’t planned to say it. He hadn’t stopped to think about it. He hadn’t even registered the words rolling out of his tongue until they were out there, hanging in between him and his mother like a challenge.

And that was exactly the moment he realized it was true.

Naomi’s eyes were wide open and her mouth was forming a perfect O. She was contemplating her son with pure horror, but Castiel didn’t even notice. He was having an epiphany.

“I love her,” he repeated in a lower tone. And that was really all that mattered. Suddenly, he felt stupid for being there when Meg was at home waiting for him, when they had so many things to talk about yet, when she still needed to clear her head and needed to know this.

He turned around to leave.

“I’m not done with you, Castiel!” Naomi called him.

“Yes, Mother,” Castiel said, coldly, with a hand upon the doorknob already. “We are done.”

Castiel practically flew down the hallway in the elevator’s direction, and tapped his foot impatiently waiting for the door to open, while he was wondering how he could have been such a fool, how did he not know he had fallen in love with her the moment… it didn’t matter when. But now it was as irrevocable as the rising sun.

The ping of the elevator finally came, and Castiel stepped in so fast he bumped against the person coming out of it.

“Sorry…” he muttered mindlessly.

“Cas!” a broken voice called him, and upon taking a better look, he realized he had just crashed into Rachel.

“What are you…?” he started asking, and then he noticed her red eyes, her smeared makeup, and his messed up hair. That was a completely disturbing sight: Rachel was always so composed, so elegant she would rather be caught dead than in those conditions.

“Rachel, honey!” Naomi exclaimed, coming at them. “Why are you here? Are you looking for Michael?”

That seemed to be too much for Rachel. She threw herself into Castiel’s arms, crying and sobbing so loudly while she tried to explain something, that her words were just a string of incomprehensible whimpers.

“Oh, no, sweetheart,” Naomi said, and looked around, but there was no one but the three of them. “Castiel, could you please take Rachel somewhere private and offer her a glass of water?”

Castiel hesitated for a second, but the manners he had so deeply ingrained paired up with the small part of him that still cared about Rachel won in the end. He guided her to his office, helped her take a seat in his chair and filled a plastic cup in the water cooler. Rachel took it with trembling hands. Her shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Cas,” Rachel repeated.

“It’s alright,” Castiel said. He found some tissues in his desk and offered them to her. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Rachel let out a strangled noise as she buried her face in one of the tissues in her hand. Castiel raised his head, but Naomi was nowhere to be seen. Castiel frowned. He could have sworn that she would be all over this, trying to find out why Rachel was so upset and…

“I’ve… I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Rachel hiccupped. “Cas, I never should have… I’m so sorry…”

“Rachel,” Cas turned his attention back to her as he put a hand on her forearm. “Please, calm down. I have no idea what are you saying.”

Rachel took a couple of deep, tremulous breaths, and then said probably the only thing that could have completely disarmed Castiel not two hours ago. Now, those words sounded like hollow echoes:

“I never should have married Michael.”

 

* * *

 

Meg woke up to an empty bed with cold sheets. The headache from the night before had disappeared, and her mind was clear in a way it hadn’t been in a while. She’d always felt safe there, with Castiel, and wondered why was that such a revelation. After all, this was the place she had chosen to run to when everything else seemed to crumble around her. She looked at the clock, and frowned, then understood what had happened.

“Cas, you dork,” she muttered to herself, and reached for her phone to call him.

She wanted to thank him for consoling her and letting her ramble the night before. She wanted to ask him if they could meet somewhere (maybe they could have an actual date. Maybe have coffee and then dinner) and talk about what was going to happen now. Whatever it was, she wasn’t scared anymore. She’d have Cas by her side.

After ringing for five or six times, it was obvious Cas was too busy to pick up. Oh, well. She’d talk to him later.

Meg took a quick trip into the bathroom and put on her clothes (she grimaced at the teasing she’d have to endure when Ruby saw her arrive wearing the same thing she had the night before). She was wondering if maybe she could have a light breakfast before leaving and opened the door.

The world seemed to freeze for a minute or two.

Dean was standing in the middle of the living room looking extremely uncomfortable, and Meg immediately realized why: Naomi Novak was on the living room, her legs crossed and a smoking cup of coffee in front of her.

“And she appears,” Naomi said, calmly. “Good, good. Now we can begin.”

“Mrs. Novak…” Dean started.

“Thank you, Dean, that would be all,” Naomi interrupted him. “You’ve done your part wonderfully. Now, isn’t somewhere you need to be?”

Meg exchanged a look with him, almost trying to beg him with her eyes not to leave her alone with that woman. Dean seemed defeated. He gave Meg an apologetic shrug and then left the apartment.

“Please, have a seat, Megan,” Naomi invited her with a gesture. “We have some things to discuss.”

Meg repressed a cringe. Nobody had called her “Megan” since she had finished high school. It made her feel small and vulnerable, but she straightened her back and put a deadpan expression as soon as she realized Naomi was carefully following each and every one of her movements.

Naomi took her time. First she sipped her coffee (Meg noticed there was only one cup on the table, so she could forget about her own breakfast), then she put it back down exasperatingly slow.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she began. “But, as always, I am forced to be in the position to correct my children’s mistakes. It is a mother’s job, you’ll understand. After all, you too would do anything for your family.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following you, Mrs. Novak,” Meg replied. Her stomach became an oppressive knot, the kind of gut feeling that set loud alarms and red warning lights in her brain when she was with a client she didn’t like. She did her best to ignore it. She remembered what Dean had told her about Naomi being like an attack dog.

“It’s simple, really,” Naomi said, tilting her head to one side. “Castiel has told me everything.”

The alarms in Meg’s head went quiet at once, but that was because her brain had stopped functioning all at once. A few seconds went by, and a part of her started screaming that it couldn’t be, that Naomi was lying through her teeth, and that Castiel would never do that.

“To be fair, he wouldn’t have under any other set of circumstances,” Naomi continued, like she had read Meg’s mind. “But it would appear that you are under the impression that this, uh… relationship of yours (to call it something) has some kind of future.”

That made Meg angry, and the part of her screaming that she couldn’t trust Naomi, not until she had talked to Cas, became louder. But still, the grip she had on the strap of her bag became so tight her knuckles went white.

“Well,” she asked, with her most controlled tone. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“My dear,” Naomi put her hands on the table, and leaned forwards a little, a gesture Meg had seen Josie use when she wanted to get rid of unwanted clients. “Do you really need to ask? As I’ve said, Castiel has told me everything. I am fully aware of what you do for a living. Your _real_ job,” she added, when Meg was about to protest. “There’s no point denying it.”

Meg was lost for words. She wanted to keep her chin up, to look at Naomi with the same contempt she was looking at her with, to ask her what difference it made. After all, Castiel…

“Castiel has sent me here to make you an offer,” Naomi continued. “He thinks it’s time to put an end to this, but he wanted to spare you the confrontation, since this is a very delicate time for you, as I understand it. So…”

“No,” Meg interrupted her. “That’s not true. He would never… he wouldn’t…”

“Sweetie,” Naomi said, with a pitiful smile. “Are you trying to tell me what _my_ son is or isn’t capable of? How well do you think you know him?”

Meg went quiet again. Naomi’s inch long nails crept inside her purse and pulled out a fancy checkbook with the name _Novak_ engraved in golden letters on the cover.

“Now,” Naomi said, placing it so Meg could see the page she was about to fill. “I’m going to put a two here,” she said, and drew the number with a flicker of her wrist. “And I’m going to keep adding zeros. Feel free to stop me when you see an amount you like.”

“And what would I have to say for you to sign it?” Meg asked wryly.

“Only that you will not bother my son any longer,” Naomi said, in a tone so calm she might as well be talking about the weather. “That you will walk out of his life and never contact him again.”

Meg stayed complete immobile for a moment. “I want to talk with Castiel,” she demanded.

Naomi’s face went slightly red, and her eyes were almost sparkling. “Well, he doesn’t want to talk to you, dearie,” she replied, her tone getting louder with every word she said. “He wants nothing to do with you at all. Not anymore. It’s about time you learn what your place is: You’re a whore, and a whore, is a whore, is a whore. Now, tell me how much it is going to cost me to get you out of my son’s life?!”

Naomi was shouting at this point, and all Meg could do was stare at her. Her mind had gone blank, and the screaming voice that kept telling her not to believe a word had gone silent.

Before she could come up with an answer, Meg’s cellphone started ringing.

 

* * *

 

“He had a vasectomy done right before the wedding,” Rachel sobbed. “He didn’t even tell me!”

Castiel passed her another tissue. “He never wanted children,” he commented. “I thought you knew that.”

“Yes, yes I did,” Rachel admitted. “But I figured… maybe, with time, I could change his mind, and… oh, Cas, I’ve made a horrible mistake!”

Castiel wasn’t about to argue with that. He patted her on the shoulder as Rachel kept weeping on his shirt.

“We had this terrible fight,” Rachel continued telling him. “And he left. He said he was going to a hotel… oh, God, I fucked up, I fucked up so badly… you must hate me…”

“No, of course not,” he replied. “I could never hate you, Rachel.”

Rachel backed away from his chest. She truly looked wrecked, with her eyes all puffy and her tear-stained face. Castiel brushed aside a lock of hair falling on her face.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured her. “Somehow.”

Rachel nodded, even though she didn’t look very convinced. Then she raised her face towards him.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, leaning backwards just in time to avoid her lips.

“I…” Rachel mumbled. “I’m… Cas, you said…”

“I know what I said,” Castiel interrupted her. “But I’m with Meg now. And even if I wasn’t… well, I don’t think this is the most appropriate time for you to decide something like this.”

Half of him expected Rachel to protest or fight, but she simply gave him a tearful smile.

“She’s a lucky girl,” she said.

And promptly started crying again. It took another forty five minutes to calm her, and by then, the building had started filling up. Castiel offered to call a cab for Rachel, but she said she’d rather walk.

“I have a lot to think about,” she commented, as Castiel walked her downstairs. “Thank you, Cas. And I’m… sorry. About everything.”

“No need to apologize.”

Rachel opened her arms for a hug, but Castiel simply offered her his hand. For the first time since she had walked out on him, his heart wasn’t clenching at the sight of her and he wasn’t running wild scenarios in his head to get her back. As they shook hands and Rachel turned around to leave, Castiel was left in the building’s door, wondering what to call that feeling.

Closure. Closure seemed like a good word. That chapter was over. It was time to start a new one.

A car parked right in front of him. No, not _a_ car, Castiel corrected himself mentally. _His_ car. Dean got out of it and shot Cas a look of extreme pity. It was like someone had popped the balloon swelling up in Cas’ chest.

 

* * *

 

The apartment was empty and silent when they arrived.

“She didn’t say anything?” Castiel asked, a lump forming in his throat. “She didn’t… didn’t leave a note or…?”

“Sorry,” Dean said. “She just ran out and told me to say goodbye to you. That she would… call. Maybe. At some point. But that right now wasn’t a good moment.”

“What did my mother tell her?” Castiel asked.

“A bunch of bullshit,” Dean replied. “I don’t think Meg believed it for a second.”

“How would you know?”

“I, uh… I might have eavesdropped on the whole thing and… Naomi might have fired me for it,” Dean confessed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Despite the dire situation, Castiel still managed to snicker.

“She can’t fire you,” he pointed out. “You’re _my_ driver.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure she’s not going to fire you, too, once she finds out you snuck out of the office,” Dean said. “She was furious.”

Castiel could picture just that. He tapped his fingers on the table, trying to figure out what to do next. Meg was gone. She didn’t want him to call her. So there was that. He breathed in a couple of times, but the lump didn’t go away. Dean cleared his throat.

“Anything else you need, boss?” he asked. “I mean, I’m assuming you’re still my boss…”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel interrupted him. “You can… take the day off, if you want.”

He needed to stop talking right now. He needed to understand what had happened. He needed to figure how to confront Naomi about this, because of all the things she had subjected him to; this had to be the worst, up there with kicking Hannah out of the house.

But Castiel wasn’t a scared sixteen-year-old anymore.

He heard Dean’s footsteps going towards the door, but then the driver stopped.

“If it helps,” he said. “She didn’t take the money. Meg, I mean. She didn’t take it. You should know that.”

There was a pause, like Dean was expecting a reply. When none came, he closed the door and left Castiel alone with his thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

Meg woke up with an aching neck and a contracture in her back. Her bones creaked when she got up, and amazingly, she felt even more tired than she had the night before when she went to sleep. She kicked the blankets aside and tiptoed upstairs.

Tom’s room was bathed in the morning light. Missouri was sitting next to him, moving her knitting needles so much precision and calm it was as if the scarf she was making was the most important craft in the whole the universe and rushing it would’ve been a mistake.

“Good morning, girl,” she mumbled when she Meg on the door. “Come on in.”

Meg didn’t want to come in, but she took a deep breath and gathered all her courage before looking at the bed. Tom was on the bed, and he looked paler and more fragile than Meg had ever seen him. But his expression was so peaceful and so calm that he might as well have been sleeping.

“Tessa finally went to sleep some hours ago,” Missouri informed her. “I convinced her she needed to be awake by the time the undertaker arrived.”

“Of course,” Meg muttered, sitting in the arm chair next to Missouri. The nurse put her needles down and touched her arm.

“He’s not in pain anymore,” she consoled her.

Meg wanted to ask her if it was possible to suffer dehydration from crying, because it seemed like that was all she had done during the past three weeks.

First Tom had decompensated again, and Tessa had called her in panic, cutting her interview with Naomi short. Then they’d had to fight against the hospital to respect Tom’s wishes and for him to be released. Meg had had to make long, exasperatingly slow queues at the bank to cash another of Castiel’s checks so they could rent medical equipment for the home care. (Tom was too weak and Tessa too destroyed to ask where the money came from). Then, since there was no one that could take over for them, Meg had called all of the catering staff to give them an impromptu paid holiday.

The worst part had been canceling all the events they were supposed to be taking care of and deal with all the angry ladies that had screamed at her they were irresponsible and unprofessional and to expect nobody would ever hire them again in that city. Meg had wanted to yell back that she wasn’t scared of any of them, that she’d confronted Naomi Novak and lived to tell. But instead, she bit her lips and took the abuse, assuring the clients they would get full refunds for everything.

It had been hellish. Meg had no idea how she and Tessa would have managed if it wasn’t for Missouri and her teas and home-made cookies. Of course, Tom had been a model patient too, joking and assuring them everything was just fine even when he was obviously hurting all over.

The night before, he had fallen asleep in the middle of the game (they had moved the TV to his room so he could watch it), and when they tried to wake him up for dinner, he had already stopped breathing. The called doctor Flagstaff, who’d showed up with dark circles under her eyes, and had shaken her head as soon as she tried to localize Tom’s pulse.

And that was it. It was over. It was the last day of September, and Tom was dead, and Tessa and Meg had cried on each other’s shoulders until Missouri had forced some tea that must have been some sort of sleeping drought down their throats, because the next thing Meg remembered was waking up on the couch to this cold and grey morning, in a world where her brother no longer existed.

“You think he knew?” she asked. Her voice sounded very far away, like it was a completely different person speaking. “That his team won, I mean. You think he lived long enough to see the end of the game?”

Missouri tilted her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But let me tell you, even if he died before it, I’m sure the stubborn head of your brother didn’t move on until he saw the results.”

They had never been religious and Meg was convinced there was no afterlife to move on to, but she still appreciated Missouri saying that. Yes, it sounded like something Tom would absolutely do.

The doorbell rang and brought her back to reality. There was people she needed to call, food that needed to be prepared, and did she have anything black to wear? She couldn’t just borrow something from Ruby this time…

Missouri touched her arm again, and all the thoughts Meg had been juggling with fell to the floor.

“Take it easy, girl,” the nurse told her. “Take it as easy as you need to.”

The doorbell rang again, and Missouri stood up heavily, announcing she was going to wake Tessa up, if she wasn’t already. Meg wiped her tears and walked towards the bed. Tom had chosen to be cremated, so this was the last time she would see her brother. He probably wouldn’t want her to remember him like that, but she still took his hand between hers. His fingers were cold and heavy. She wanted to tell him a bunch of things, but they had talked so much during the last days it felt unnecessary. Meg had the impression Tom had waited to die until he had said everything that needed to be said.

And Meg was never good with words anyway.

“Goodbye, Tommy,” she muttered, and softly kissed his temple before leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

Cas hung up the phone and leaned his head on the desk after a long, tiresome day. The numbers on his screen had begun dancing carelessly a few hours ago, and he was at that point where it was too early to leave, but he knew he’d achieve nothing by staying. So he texted Dean to wait for him downstairs (they both had decided to blatantly ignore Naomi’s decision), picked up his briefcase, and made a run for the elevator.

Unfortunately, he was seen.

“Castiel?” Michael called right before he could make his escape. “Where are you going?”

Castiel took a deep breath and turned around to confront his brother. “Home, Michael,” he answered cheekily.

“Home?” Michael repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, you know,” Castiel said. “That place where I live…”

“You realize is the third time that you have left early, just this week?” Michael pointed out. “Don’t think that because you’re my brother I will not report this…”

“That’s very mature, Michael,” Castiel sighed. He really had no patience left for this. “Go on, tell Mother. And while you’re at it, you might want to explain to her why Rachel has moved out from your apartment and why is she talking to a lawyer.”

Michael got red in the face. “How do you know about that?”

“Because I promised to help her figure out exactly how much money she should demand when she divorces you,” Castiel answered with a shrug. “I’m sure an accountant without an inside knowledge as the one I possess would have done a job just as efficient, but for some reason, Rachel doesn’t trust you putting all the cards on the table. Can’t say I blame her. Good afternoon, brother.”

By the time Michael came up with an answer, Castiel was already sliding inside his car with a sigh. He was going to get in trouble. He knew that Naomi would protest that his loyalty should be first and foremost to his family, and that he had no right to turn against them after everything they (she) had done for him.

At which point, Castiel would look at her in the eye and ask if chasing away the woman he loved (twice) was one of those things.

“Hey, boss,” Dean called him. “I, uh… I know you’re tired, but I was wondering…”

“Tell me, Dean,” Castiel replied, immediately sitting up to pay attention.

“Have you heard from Meg?”

Castiel stared at the buildings parading outside. “No, I haven’t,” he replied. “I’m not surprised, though. After the way my mother treated her…”

“Yeah, no, I don’t mean that,” Dean stopped on a semaphore and handed Castiel his phone. “I mean because of this.”

Castiel looked at the screen, and it took him a couple of minutes to understand what he was seeing. When he did, all his other concerns flew out of the window and the only thought that persisted in his mind was the urge to see Meg.

“Boss?”

“Would it be too indelicate on my part to assist?” he asked. Not to Dean in particular, but his driver answered anyway.

“Well, if I lost my brother,” he said, and tapped on the dashboard even though it wasn’t wooden. “I would want everyone and their mother to be there.”

Castiel nodded, slowly.

“I’m going to need to pick up my black suit from the laundry,” he decided. “And do you know somewhere we can get flowers?”

 

* * *

 

They had a small reunion at home, and Tessa prepared some refreshments (she said cooking helped her deal with everything going on at the moment). They put Tom’s ashes on the coffee table along with a picture of him.

Missouri and Ruby helped them receive the mourners, mostly neighbors, people from the catering, and some of Tom’s old college friends. Some brought flowers, some brought food (Meg lost count of how many pots of stew they pushed inside the fridge). They ate, drank, gave Tessa and Meg their condolences, and talked about how much they were going to miss Tom. Meg gave them sideway glares and had to hold her tongue not to ask them where the hell they had all been while her brother was dying. They must have perceived her animosity, because most fled (yes, that was the word) soon after.

She couldn’t blame them for that, though. Nobody liked funerals.

By the time the afternoon came around, they were down to half a dozen people (the four of them, and Casey and Marcus, two waiters of the catering), Tessa had made coffee for everyone and they weren’t expecting anybody else.

That was when Castiel arrived.

Meg heard the doorbell, but she was busy serving some pastries to go along with the coffee, so she vaguely wondered who it could be, but paid no real attention. When she was leaving the kitchen, she heard his voice.

“… and I’m a friend of Meg’s…” he was saying.

The tray almost slid from her fingers, but she managed to hold on to it. For a moment or two, she couldn’t bring herself to take another step, so she stayed hidden around the corner, listening in.

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to know you’re here,” Tessa replied. “Come on in. Have some coffee.”

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“Not at all,” Tessa insisted. “Please.”

They were coming her way. Meg took a deep breath and tried to look composed and unsurprised.

She still shivered when he called her name.

“Hey, Cas,” she greeted him, trying to sound casual. “I… thank you for coming.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be serving those?” Tessa said, pointing at Meg’s tray. Then she snatched from her hands. “I swear, if I didn’t love you this much, you would have been fired years ago…”

She kept rambling on as she went inside the living room, and only then Meg realized she was giving her a chance to talk to Castiel alone.

Only neither of them seemed to know what to say, so they just stood there for several seconds, glancing at each other nervously. Meg noticed he was wearing an impeccable black suit that gave away most of his lean and athletic body. If Tom had been there, he probably would have congratulated Meg for getting it with that.

The thought put a bitter smile on her face. This wasn’t the worst thing she had to deal with that day.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said. Meg had heard that phrase dozens of time that day. For the first time, she felt like someone wasn’t just saying it because the circumstances called for it.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Dean told me,” Castiel replied. “He’s been… monitoring your online social activity. He noticed your brother’s page had been memorialized.”

“Oh, no,” Meg cringed. “He’s not still spying for your mother, is he?”

“No, no,” Castiel shook his head amused. “I think he does it out of habit by now.”

Meg giggled, and didn’t say another word. She didn’t have anything left to say. Castiel took a step forwards and put a hand on her shoulder.

“He sends his condolences,” he told her. “He couldn’t be here because Ben has a school play tomorrow and…”

“Yes, of course,” Meg nodded. “Tell him I appreciate it. And I… appreciate that you came. Really.”

They went quiet again, but luckily, Missouri chose that moment to interrupt them.

“Coffee’s getting cold,” she said. “How do you take yours? Cream, sugar?”

“One sugar,” Meg and Castiel said in unison. Missouri frowned, like she suspected something, but Meg was too busy marveling at the fact that, in all her emotional turmoil, she could still remembered the little facts about Castiel.

“But I don’t really mean to interrupt…”

“Please, stay,” Meg begged him. “For a while, at least.”

Castiel had his hands hidden in his pocket, and Meg was about to take it back because this was obviously too awkward for him, but then he said: “Okay.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Marcus asked while they were all sitting in the living room, Tom’s ashes still on the coffee table.

“I’m… sorry,” Castiel said. “I’m not sure I remember where…”

“No, wait, you’re from the wedding we had in May,” Casey remembered. “Yeah, you tipped us really good.”

Tessa raised her head, blinking. “Really?”

“Yeah, you’re right, he was the best man,” Marcus continued. “Meg spilled champagne on you and Tessa was going out of her mind because rich people are assholes and she was scared you may sue or something…”

Casey kicked him in the shin and Marcus realized what he just said.

“Sorry, man.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel shrugged. “My mother can be overly demanding…”

Tessa seemed to be deep in thought. “So that’s how you met? And became… ‘friends’?”

“It’s a long story,” Meg said, and luckily, everybody decided to leave it at that.

Ruby eyed her and while nobody else was looking, she pointed at Castiel and mouthed “ _Is it him?_ ”

Meg didn’t care to answer.

They finished the coffee and then Tessa stood up and grabbed the urn so tight against her chest Meg thought she was going trying to perforate herself with it.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she declared. “Let’s do it.”

They followed her into the backyard, where they stood underneath Tom’s favorite tree.

“Does anyone want to say some words?” Tessa asked.

There was a very uncomfortable silent. Then, Castiel cleared his throat, and everyone turned to him with expressions of surprise.

“I… I didn’t have the honor to meet him personally,” Castiel said, inhibited. “But Meg always spoke highly of him. I believe that’s the best I can say. That he was… so enormously loved by his family and friends.”

It wasn’t a speech in all the extension of the word, but it was like a dam broke after it.

“He was a good boss,” said Marcus. “A real solid guy.”

“He was always laughing,” Missouri added. “Even he was in pain.”

“He was my best friend,” Meg muttered and she wasn’t sure if anybody heard her, but she felt the warmth of Castiel’s hand close to hers. She didn’t realize they were standing so close to each other, like she had gravitated towards him automatically. She held his hand tight.

“Goodbye, baby,” Tessa said in a broken tone. Then she opened the urn and took a handful. Everyone imitated her, and then opened their hands to let the afternoon breeze scattered the ashes towards the direction of the sinking sun.

It was quite simple. Not excessively dramatic. Meg reckoned Tom would have liked it.

 

* * *

 

After that, Missouri gave both Meg and Tessa a bone-crushing hug and assured them they could call her no matter what they needed. Having her gone hurt Meg in an unexpected way, like her presence in the house had protected them from all the bad things that they’d have to face without Tom. And now they were alone against them.

Casey and Marcus shared a cab and Ruby left after Meg told her she was staying with Tessa that night. Meg found her sister-in-law picking up the dishes and taking them to the kitchen, and when she tried to help, Tessa brushed her off.

“He’s waiting to talk to you,” she told her, pointing over her shoulder.

Cas was standing in the living room, looking at the pictures on the bookshelves. Meg stared for a moment at the back of his neck, thinking about all the times she had rubbed her nose right on the spot where his neck ended and his back began right before falling asleep to the sound of his soft snoring.

He must have felt her eyes boring into him, because he turned around and offered her a soft smile.

“You look really pretty in this picture,” he said, pointing at one that showed her, Tessa, and Tom raising bottles of beer and laughing hysterically.

“That was the day I decided to drop out,” Meg told him. “Tom said we might as well get drunk about it and have some fun.”

“Did you?”

“I don’t know, that night is kind of a blur,” Meg admitted with a chuckle. Castiel grinned, amused. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you…”

“No, please,” Castiel raised a hand to stop her. “You were overwhelmed with your brother… and my mother was extremely rude to you. I can completely understand…” he stopped, and Meg could see his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he tried to find the words.

“Cas…”

“… that you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore,” he concluded.

Meg wasn’t sure she had a heart left to be broken until that point. She walked up to him, unsure what she wanted to do. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him everything would be alright and they just could go back exactly to the point where they left off.

But she’d had a lot of time to think about it. So she simply put a hand on his cheek.

“I know what your mother told me was a lie,” she began. “But she wasn’t completely wrong, you know? We come from different worlds, I… we had too much going, and… I don’t know. If only we have met… differently.”

Castiel offered her a bitter smile. He turned his head slowly, and kissed Meg’s palm.

“In another life,” he said.

“In another life,” Meg agreed.

Castiel took a step forwards and leaned his head towards him. Meg thought he was about to kiss her, but he only barely grazed her hair with his lips.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said.

Meg didn’t know how to answer. She walked him to the door and watched him climb down the porch’s steps. His car was parked on the driveway and Meg couldn’t help but take a last jab at him.

“Driving yourself these days?”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel laughed. “I think it’s time.”

Then he got in and disappeared into the night.


	13. Epilogue. Two Years Later.

“I’ve heard he’s extremely handsome…”

Krissy rolled her eyes so hard Meg was afraid they were going to get stuck on the back of her head.

“Who the hell cares how good he looks, Josephine?” she complained as her friend laughed in her face.

“Yes, really, who cares?” Aiden answered, frustrated. “We don’t care, do we, Meg?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Meg said, raising her hands. “I’m just here for the extra credit.”

“In any case, I guess he’s better looking than you, Aiden,” Josephine teased him, and Aiden threw a pencil at her. Josephine bolted down the aisle, laughing, with Aiden at her heels asking at the top of his lungs what she meant. Krissy huffed, shook her head, and stood by Meg’s side, pretending to be too mature for that sort of shit.

Meg liked “the kids” as she called them. They had sat by her side the first day of college, greener than the grass in the spring. Meg, who had danced the first day at college dance before, gave them some tips at orientation, and they in turn had adopted her as a mentor or older sister of sorts.

“I just hope he’s not boring,” Krissy commented as they walked into the conference room. “He looked a little stiff in his pictures.”

“What pictures?” Meg asked, suddenly panicking. They were supposed to go to this lecture of a guy who had split from his previous company and started his own business. He was supposed to advise them on the risks of starting from scratch and some do’s and don’t’s. Nobody had mentioned anything about pictures…

“I Googled him,” Krissy explained, pulling out a tablet from her bag and passing it to her. Meg cringed and tried to manipulate the screen, but those things had been invented by Satan himself to mess with her, and in any case the lights were dimming now.

Professor Harrington (who the kids had deduced had like twenty identical black suits and insisted everybody call him Bartholomew) took the mic to say a few words about the importance of having on-the-field knowledge for doing business and how listening to the experience of others might help them get an idea about the type of things they’d have to deal with once they graduated. Aiden threw his head back and pretended to snore.

“… and for that, I would like to introduce the man who took what we would most likely classify as an unwise decision and somehow made it fly,” Bartholomew continued. “My personal friend, Mr. Castiel Novak.”

Meg froze. “Did you hear that?” she asked Krissy.

“Yes, Castiel Novak,” Krissy confirmed. “That’d be him. Wait, you didn’t know…?”

Meg wasn’t listening to her, watching transfixed as Castiel strutted onto the stage and shook Bartholomew’s hand. He looked… well, he looked good. His hair was still all over the place, although it was obvious he had tried to squash it a little against his head. He was wearing a blue tie and a brown long coat, and he tugged at the sleeves nervously as he began speaking about his new business. He told them about how hard it had been to cut ties with his family’s enterprise, how difficult it was to begin from scratch, and how his partner (a guy named Dean Winchester, who didn’t have a business degree, but was smart as hell) had been an invaluable source of ideas and support.

So now Castiel Novak, former Head of Finances at Novak’s Enterprise, was the proud CEO of his own small and growing company that provided (Meg could barely hold her laughter) luxury transportation and drivers who doubled as bodyguards for high profile clients.

He finished his speech and smiled awkwardly when the students clapped. He was about to make a quick exit when Bartholomew intercepted him and asked the audience if anybody had questions.

Several hands rose. Meg’s included.

“What was the scariest part for you?” someone in the front row asked.

“Uh… I’ll have to say this,” he said, rubbing his neck, and everyone laughed. “My people’s skills were ‘rusty’, as Dean put it,” he continued, drawing air quotes. “So I had to overcome this… fear of speaking for myself to make new contacts and meet new people. Networking wasn’t always my strongest suit.”

“Yes, back there,” Bartholomew continued.

Meg wasn’t sure he had pointed at her, but she went ahead and asked anyway: “So in your former company, you were pretty much a glorified tax accountant, right?”

She was far away from the stage, but she could still notice the way his eyes got wider, and how they searched the crowd frantically. When he located her, a smile appeared on his face. He still smiled the same way, and he still had those same little crinkles around his eyes.

“That would be an accurate description,” he said.

There were some more questions, but Castiel was obviously distracted and Meg didn’t feel guilty in the slightest for being the cause of it. Finally, Bartholomew let him go, there was another round of applause, and everybody started getting up from their seats. Meg did her best not to get dragged by the human current, and planted herself firmly next to the door.

“What are you doing?” Krissy asked.

“What was with the weird-ass question?” Aiden added.

Meg didn’t reply, too busy standing on the tip of her toes and trying to catch Castiel’s eye. Bartholomew kept talking to him and Castiel nodding politely, until finally they shook hands and said their goodbyes. Castiel turned around, and when his glance met Meg’s, her heart skipped a beat. Oh, God, why did she think this was a good idea? Maybe he didn’t want to see her and be reminded of everything they went through, maybe it was best if she just bolted now that she had time…

“Wait, he’s coming this way,” Josephine pointed out, and then threw a suspicious glance at Meg. “You know this guy?”

Meg didn’t have time to answer: Castiel was already upon them.

“Meg!” he greeted her. “I… I didn’t… this is such a surprise! You… you dyed your hair!”

He sounded pleased. His eyes were shining and he was stumbling through his words, and there was something swelling up inside Meg’s chest.

“Yeah, I figured it was time for a makeover,” she commented with a wink and pulled at her now blonde locks. “How you’ve been?”

Castiel mumbled something, but Meg didn’t quite get it because Krissy said out loud:

“Well, we should be going, don’t you think, guys?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Josephine said. “We’re gonna be late for the… thing.”

“What thing?” Aiden asked, but both Krissy and Josephine grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away with a ‘see you later’ to Meg. They never knew how thankful she was.

“Don’t you have to go with them?” Castiel asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, no, I already visited the… thing,” she said. “Do you want to go for coffee or something? Catch up?”

Castiel’s mouth hung open for a second, as if he was hesitating. Meg feared he was going to say thanks, but no thanks, you were just someone that I used to know and I’m really busy right now, and of course, that would be perfectly understandable…

“Yes, absolutely,” he said. “That sounds lovely.”

So twenty minutes later, they were sitting in Meg’s favorite cafe, laughing at the shared memories that were as clear as if no time had passed.

“And do you remember that time we traumatized Hael?” Castiel asked, and Meg just burst out laughing. “She still brings it up whenever she wants to get something from me.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s great,” Castiel answered, his voice filling up with pride. “She’s working on this project about bees and how to make them stop disappearing. Hannah says if she hears the word ‘bee’ one more time, she’s going to snap and kill someone.”

“I can imagine,” Meg giggled.

“And how about Tessa, how is she?” Castiel asked in turn.

“She’s good, yeah,” Meg nodded. “We got the catering rolling again and we hired another chef so we can take on bigger events more often. His name’s Ash and Tessa thinks I don’t see them flirting with each other. I’ve told her not to feel bad about moving on. It’s what Tom would have wanted.”

Meg went quiet, and with a jolt, realized they had talked about every single person in their lives except for themselves.

“So you…” she started.

“You’re…” Castiel began at the same time. They both shook their heads, amused. “You go first.”

“Well, I’m studying again,” Meg said, making a vague gesture towards the college outline outside the coffee shop window. “It’s a struggle sometimes, to keep up with the kids… but I’m managing. I might still get my degree without drowning in debt.”

“I have no doubt you will,” Castiel replied, and Meg tried to completely negate the fact she was blushing by changing the topic:

“So you’ve started your own business with Dean. That’s really awesome.”

“Well, it wasn’t awesome the first few months,” Castiel admitted. “Mother was dead set on sabotaging us and Michael was helping her because he was mad at me since I helped Rachel through the divorce…”

“Oh, they… got divorced?” Meg asked, surprised.

“Yes, and it was ugly,” Castiel cringed at the memory.

“So… you and her…?” Meg didn’t even know what she was asking. She didn’t know why she was asking. And the fact that Castiel squinted at her, completely clueless at what she meant didn’t help. Meg took a deep breath and went for it: “You guys got back together?”

“Oh, no, no,” Castiel shook his head. “She moved to Venice. She teaches English there. She’s happy.”

Meg took a sip of her coffee before asking: “And are you? Happy, I mean.”

Castiel looked outside the window for several seconds before shrugging. “I can’t complain,” he said. “I’ve never thought I’d get to do things in my own terms, and now I am; it’s… overwhelming. Freedom is scary.” A small smirk formed on his lips as he turned to look back at Meg. “I am happy. I still miss you sometimes, though.”

A moment passed in which they just stared paralyzed at each other, and then Castiel covered his mouth with his hands.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he apologized, looking down in embarrassment. “Please, forget I said that.”

“Cas…”

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying. “We were having such a nice conversation, and I just… I’m gonna go now…”

He tried to stand up, but Meg’s hand covering his stopped him.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “It’s okay.”

Castiel moved in his seat, still uncomfortable, but at least he wasn’t walking away. It wasn’t like Meg was going to let him, in any case.

“I still miss you too,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Castiel said, and it was like the whole extent of his vocabulary had been condensed in that little word. He cleared his throat. “Do you think…? I don’t want to come off rude, I just… do you think we can see each other again? Some other time?”

There was such uncertainty in his voice. He was looking at her with parted lips and shining eyes, hopeful and terrified, and Meg would have laughed at him if her heart wasn’t pounding so hard.

“I don’t see why not,” she said, and she somehow managed to keep her voice firm. “After all, this is a completely different life.”

 


End file.
